


Failover

by 13th_blackbird, anthean



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Accidental Courtship, Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chiss courtship rituals, Forced Proximity, Hurt/Comfort, I've got a bad feeling about this, Lysatran mythology, M/M, More talking, Non-Consensual Medical Experimentation, Original Character(s), Plotting and scheming, Slow Burn, Talking, Thrawn's no-good very bad day, What-If, banality of evil, best laid plans going astray af, bunk beds, canon-typical poor data security practices, count the blushes, disguises obviously, eventual E rating, making trade deals as flirting, oops we accidentally acted out a myth, our love letter to Eli Vanto, our mutual foe: emotional honesty, sexy language lessons, sexy storytime, significant hair-touching, the hedge-from a different point of view, thrawn wears a poncho, trader!Eli AU, we warned you about the talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-10-24 11:38:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17703620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13th_blackbird/pseuds/13th_blackbird, https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthean/pseuds/anthean
Summary: failover: In computer analysis of large datasets, the automatic switching to another computer or node should one fail.--In 13 BBY, Eli Vanto turns down an offer from Myomar Academy and joins his family's shipping business instead. Two years later he picks up a distress beacon from a nameless planet, where he meets a creature out of legend.Meanwhile, Thrawn confronts the flaws in his flawless plan--and faces their consequences.





	1. Chapter 1

There was quiet, only his own ragged breaths filling the little hut, and then there were voices  outside, rising first in curiosity and then alarm. Light hit his eyes and he recoiled, then cried out as the sudden movement sent pins and needles stabbing along his temples and down his neck. The door opening, the strangers entering. He forced air out of his mouth, trying to shape it into sounds, into words, but his tongue wouldn’t respond. A hiss, a vowel, and his air ran out.

“Kriffing hells, I think he’s a Chiss,” a voice said. Not in Cheunh, but in one of the trade languages. Not his people, then. Another failure.

“Are you sure? I didn’t think they were real,” a second voice asked.

“Doesn’t matter right now, okay? I think he’s sick.” The first voice. “He looks really bad.” 

He managed to open one eye for a moment, saw a human face swimming above him before his eye dragged itself shut again. Traders or smugglers, most likely. Perhaps he could convince them to boost his distress signal before they left, give him some chance of reaching the Ascendency before the fever took him.

“Go get the medbay ready. I’m going to get him up,” the first voice said, and the door opened again as the other stranger left the hut. An arm snaked under his shoulders and pushed up gently. “Come on,” the voice said. “I’ve got medical supplies in my ship, but my partner and I can’t carry you ourselves, so you need to work with me, okay? Come on, sit up.”

He hissed again in confusion, but the stranger just pushed a little harder. Perhaps he wasn’t to be abandoned again. He contracted muscles, individually and in pairs, trying to find the combination that would let him move. Something must have worked, because he found himself swaying on his feet, leaning heavily on the stranger’s shoulder.

“Stars, you’re tall,” the stranger said. “Come on, that was the hard part, just a little further.”

Somehow, they made it across the clearing and onto the ship, a tiny freighter barely big enough for two people and a small cargo. The medbay was just an alcove off the main corridor and he collapsed on the cot gratefully, one foot hanging off the side. The cot was too short and he didn’t care. His heart pounded in his chest, his throat, his fingers.

“Okay,” the stranger said, already taking supplies out of cabinets and drawers. His hands appeared and disappeared, empty and full, clenched and relaxed. “My name is Eli. What’s yours?”

Thrawn had to breathe for a moment before he could answer, and the moment stretched out until Eli touched his arm and he realized he’d been losing consciousness. “Mitth’...rawn. Thrawn.”

“Thrawn. All right. Before I give you medication, there are some things I need to know.”

The location of the Ascendency. The deployment of the Defense Fleet. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t answer. He had enough energy for one burst of strength, one blow. If he could overpower Eli quickly he might be able to remain conscious long enough to get to the medication, and depending on what was there he could--

“I have a starvation pack with sento protein. Can you metabolize that?”

The question was so unexpected that he had to repeat the syllables to himself individually to be sure he hadn’t misunderstood. “Yes.”

Eli’s brow furrowed. “Do you speak Sy Bisti? Or Basic?”

He thought about the word. Yes, yes, yes. Yes, in Cheunh. “Yes,” he said again, in one of the trade languages, and Eli’s expression cleared. He must have chosen the right one.

“Okay, good,” Eli said. Something cool wrapped around his forearm, and he rolled his head on the pillow to see Eli applying the pack and securing it with medical tape. “Don’t fall asleep. One more thing. I don’t know what medication will help you. These are the fever reducers we have.” He held up two small boxes. “Will either of these work?”

He tried to lift his arm, but couldn’t. Instead, he jerked his head at the left-hand box, wincing at the dizziness the movement brought, and then collapsed back on the cot, eyes closed.

“Last thing. Open your mouth,” he heard, and hot fingers held his chin and pulled gently. His mouth dropped open. A thin stream of cool water poured in and he swallowed, swallowed again. Then the water went away and Eli’s finger pressed the medicine tab to his tongue. 

“Okay. You can sleep now,” Eli said, and he did.

 

* * *

 

A sound woke him. He turned his head before he remembered the pain that would cause, and was confused when the pain didn’t come. Instead, he saw Eli by the cot, straightening up from retrieving something on the ground.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Eli said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to drop this.” He waved something metal, a tool, awkwardly.

It took Thrawn a moment to parse Eli’s words. It was like Eli stood behind a sheet of ice, dulling and distorting his image, although whether Thrawn was underwater looking up or standing on the ice looking down he couldn’t say. He needed information. He needed to know who held his life in their hands.

“Who?” he asked finally, not a complete sentence, but the most his brain and mouth could coordinate.

Eli seemed to understand. “I’m Eli Vanto,” he said. “You’re aboard  _ Caran’s Gift, _ belonging to Vanto Shipping and Supply, my family’s company. We were taking a cargo to Beringer Outpost when we picked up your distress signal.” Eli paused for a moment. “What happened?” he asked. “How long were you there?”

“Long,” Thrawn said. “A...malfunction. Lost communication. Food, supplies. Then, sickness.” 

Why was his brain so slow?

Eli nodded. “That’s what I thought. The signal we picked up was very weak.” He paused again, fidgeted with the tool he still held. “Are you really a Chiss?” he finally asked.

“Yes.” He lifted his arms, just to test, then began struggling to sit up. It took most of his energy, and he leaned back against the wall once he was upright, but he didn’t feel feverish anymore. Dizzy and exhausted and dissociated, but no longer on the brink of death. The starvation pack was still fastened to his arm, but the medicine tab had long since dissolved. 

“Oh, wow. Okay. I’m really glad I was right. So, I did a little research, which was hard because we don’t have any information about Chiss in our medical database. But I pieced some things together because you needed more medicine and I couldn’t wake you to ask what would work. The thing is, the medicine I gave you is working, but because it wasn’t made for Chiss you’ll be pretty woozy and disoriented until it’s out of your system.”

So that was why his muscles didn’t seem to be working correctly, even though he could tell he was much stronger now. Thrawn felt himself slipping back down the wall and fought it, determined to stay sitting up. Being able to cobble together an effective treatment for an unknown lifeform was truly impressive, and he wanted to learn more about Eli Vanto. He couldn’t do that if he was asleep.

“There’s something else,” Eli said, and his face bloomed with heat. “I looked you over while you were asleep, and you have some parasites, mostly in your hair. I didn’t want to touch you until you were awake, but I think it’ll have to come off. Your hair, I mean. And you should probably change clothes.”

Thrawn struggled to his feet with Eli’s help and clumsily pulled off his torn, dirty, clothes. Eli, his facial heat glowing strongly, handed him a pair of soft drawstring trousers and a shirt, both slightly too small, before turning his back and changing the sheets on the cot with efficient movements. Thrawn was too exhausted for embarrassment, and put the clothes on as quickly as he could manage. He sank back down on the cot as soon as Eli was done, legs trembling.

“All right,” Eli said, voice hesitant. He sat down on the cot next to Thrawn and showed him the clippers. “I’m going to use these, but I’ll keep as much as I can.”

Thrawn nodded. He felt like all the speech had been drained from him, leaving only his body. Eli flicked the clippers on, filling the alcove with their quiet humming. Thrawn bowed his head, and Eli set the clippers to the back of his neck.

It was almost too intimate. Thrawn, who had stood naked before Eli moments before without concern, now shuddered as Eli’s fingers gently pushed his hair aside and guided the clippers against the curve of his skull. Hanks of snarled hair fell to the floor in his peripheral vision, and he shut his eyes, the better to savor this contact. Eli’s arms almost around him, his body leaning against Thrawn’s own.

It was absurd. He hadn’t been alone that long, and he hadn’t ever been the type to seek affection for affection’s sake. He barely knew this man.

He was sick. He was exhausted, disoriented, malnourished. 

Surely now it didn’t matter. Surely he had failed enough times.

Eli had put the clippers away and was now working some sort of lotion through Thrawn’s remaining hair. 

“For the parasites,” he said in response to some unspoken cue. Or perhaps he had just guessed that Thrawn would be curious. 

Eli’s fingers scratched against his scalp, massaging the lotion in, then combed through his hair, ordering the fine strands to lie flat. Thrawn sank into it, the warmth of Eli’s hands as they brushed along his head and down his neck, Eli’s breathing as it steadied and slowed, his own heartbeat. He felt dizzy still, but not the vertigo of before.

“All right,” Eli said softly. “You’re done.” He guided Thrawn to lie back down on the cot and covered him with a blanket. 

There was something Thrawn couldn’t quite remember, drifting on the edge of sleep and still sick with exhaustion, something important, from long ago.

Eli’s hands in his hair. A service, a bond, reciprocation.

He reached out and brushed his hand through Eli’s hair, letting the soft brown curls slip through his fingers. Eli gasped and his facial heat glowed again, but he didn’t pull away. 

Thrawn’s other hand was clasped around Eli’s forearm, and after a moment Eli turned his palm over and drew his hand back to twine his fingers with Thrawn’s.

Finally Thrawn let his hand fall away. Eli smiled a little, but otherwise didn’t move, and that was good.

“You should sleep more now,” Eli said. “We can talk about what to do when we get to Beringer Outpost.”

_ You will stay with me _ , Thrawn thought, but couldn’t move his mouth to say the words out loud.  _ Or I with you _ . It didn’t matter. He would sleep, he would wake, and he would assess. 

His original plan had failed, but there would be new plans, and these would succeed.

 

* * *

 

It was difficult to make plans when even the difference between sleep and waking was hard to determine. Thrawn’s weakness and disorientation shocked him as he drifted in and out of consciousness. If he was honest with himself--and he had no choice but to be, left to himself in the tiny medbay most of the time--it scared him. Shamed him.  

He’d been so convinced the plan would work. But there could be no doubt that he’d missed his rendezvous with the Imperial ship that would have been in distance of the planet, the one he and Ar’alani had identified and tracked. The unexpected storm, the turn everything had taken...he wasn’t sure how long it had been since his last contact with the Ascendancy, how far past his original planned timeline it was. And even if he could get back to the planet--and he was shocked at how viscerally distasteful he found _ that _ idea--his equipment was destroyed.

It would take time to learn the unfamiliar tech on this ship, to modify it in order to contact the Ascendancy. If he could locate it, get to it, in this state. If he could decide what he’d say if he did contact them. 

How he would explain this failure. 

He heard voices in the corridor. Eli’s was instantly recognizable; the other was higher, female. The other crewperson hadn’t approached him, but Thrawn had heard her voice often. The two humans spoke Basic, which he was reasonably proficient in understanding, if not in speaking. Usually. The words were unparsable to him in his weakened state, just a lilting, oddly-accented collection of syllables.

Eli appeared to be exactly what he’d claimed to be, a trader whose ship had picked up Thrawn’s distress beacon. If there was a deception here, it was extraordinarily well-crafted, and therefore, it most likely didn’t exist. So far, Eli had asked no questions, he’d demanded nothing. That fact was itself intriguing. He’d done nothing but offer Thrawn aid, from the hazy memories Thrawn could grasp from the past few days.

At least, he thought it had been days. It might have been a week or more. 

One memory was sharp, clear: Eli’s hands in his hair, Eli’s soft brown curls under his own fingers, the heat of his body through his clothes. Eli was a human, there would be different customs here. What they’d done would have no significance to him. And, truly, it should hold no significance to Thrawn, either. It had been a lifesaving measure, interpreted by Thrawn’s own fevered mind as...well. It didn’t bear thinking about. 

It would be preferable to continue to recover here, Thrawn decided. To assess what he could salvage of his plans from this vantage point. This was a trading ship; it would grant him another type of access into this Empire, maybe even a route back to his original intention. He doubted he could command an audience with anyone of high rank or drop the one name he knew that could possibly curry favor without impressing a member of the Empire’s military, but there were opportunities everywhere. 

There was no need to trouble himself with contacting the Ascendancy. They had intended to limit contact when he was ensconced in the Empire, anyway. No need to report failure when success was still a possibility. 

He’d actually been able to follow that train of thought to a logical conclusion. This particular period of wakefulness was closer to normal than he’d been in some time. He opened his eyes, and his vision seemed clearer. Experimentally, he lifted his arm. He still felt weak, but it was no longer so all-consuming. He pushed himself up to a seated position and was able to support himself without slumping against the wall. 

He was debating the merits of testing his ability to stand when Eli Vanto appeared at the medbay’s entrance. Thrawn considered his rescuer for the first time with clear sight. Humans were a varicolored species: Eli’s skin was brown, his hair and eyes a darker shade of the same hue. He was shorter than Thrawn, but Thrawn had no idea where Eli fell in the human range of height. 

He hadn’t expected to find a human so striking in appearance. 

“Thrawn,” Eli said, and smiled, open and genuinely relieved. “Do you know where you are?” He spoke Sy Bisti.

Thrawn had given this man his core name? The full version might be more appropriate, but he supposed it was unnecessary. And difficult for a human to pronounce correctly. 

“Yes,” Thrawn croaked. He hadn’t noticed how dry his throat was. Eli was holding a cup of water to his lips before he could ask for it. 

“Yes,” Thrawn tried again, his voice stronger this time. “You are Eli Vanto; this is your trading ship. I take it I did not remember, before?” 

“Sometimes you did,” Eli said. “Do you want to lie back down? Or maybe the medication’s cleared your system by now? You seem more, um. Awake.” 

His hands hovered in the air, as though he didn’t know whether to help Thrawn or not, and his shoulders were stiff. Fear? Hesitation? Very different from the measured, calm confidence he had displayed when he’d cared for Thrawn. Of course, a person in Thrawn’s original condition could hardly have been a threat. Thrawn recalled Eli’s question,  _ Are you really a Chiss _ ? Some of the planets on the Empire’s edge had had dealings with his people in their pasts. Eli’s home must have been one such place. Interesting. Something to follow up on. 

“Yes, I believe you’re right,” Thrawn said. “I am grateful to you for your aid. Can you tell me how long I’ve been here?”

Eli nodded. “Six days, ship’s time. Is there someone you want to contact? We should reach the Outpost in two more days.” He was clearly trying not to ask  _ what were you doing on that planet, alone? _

Six days. That was a long time to spend vulnerable, half-conscious. Thrawn didn’t like to rely on luck, but he had to admit that all of his careful planning had come down to nothing but luck, in the end.  

“I was exiled from my people,” Thrawn said, the cover story coming to him easily. It was, after all, truer than he had expected it to be. “There is no one to contact.” 

“Oh,” Eli said. “I’m sorry.” 

“It was a political disagreement with our leaders,” Thrawn said. Exile could be a punishment for violent crime in some places. Eli exhaled and his shoulder muscles relaxed. Thrawn supposed there was no need to go into greater detail than that. 

_ There are threats in this galaxy, to your people and to mine, _ was what he’d always intended to say. But this was an unexpected circumstance. He didn’t need to persuade anyone of his usefulness. 

The thought sent a wave of relief through him. He wasn’t up to persuasion yet. “I will accompany you to this outpost,” he said, lying back down, closing his eyes. 

“Sure,” Eli said, voice soft.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

“Was he actually lucid this time?” Kit asked as Eli joined her on the ship’s tiny bridge. 

“I think so,” Eli said, taking his place at the console. “He remembered who I was and where we were, anyway, that’s more than last time.” There wasn’t much to do, but Eli studied the hyperspace map intently, avoiding her gaze. 

“Did you ask him?” she pressed. 

“No, I didn’t,” Eli muttered, feeling himself blush. “I’m not going to ask someone who almost died of starvation if some fairy tale is true.”

“Yeah, but if it  _ was _ true,” Kit said, with a grin, “think of how jealous everyone back home would be.” 

Kit Tersu was Eli’s cousin, although she was actually something like his third half-cousin twice removed. The Vanto family had a lot of branches and Eli didn’t always bother keeping them straight in his head. Kit had a few years of piloting on these small trading missions under her belt, although she wasn’t much older than Eli.

And she didn’t let things go easily. “It’s a legend, Kit, legends aren’t true,” he said, making a few fiddly adjustments to the ventral stabilizers, which needed to be overhauled anyway. “He said he’d come with us as far as the outpost, he’ll probably find a ship there and we won’t have to deal with him anymore.”

“Yeah,” Kit said. “Probably. But that’s not what you want, right?”  She slouched as far as possible in the tiny pilot’s chair and reached across the console to poke Eli in the shoulder. “C’mon, baby cousin, admit it. You want the mystery.”

Eli had no intention of admitting anything to Kit. Besides, it hardly mattered how he felt about their unexpected guest: they would reach Beringer Outpost in a few days and their paths would diverge. A good thing, too. Eli didn’t need the distraction.

And Thrawn  _ was  _ distracting. A Chiss, an actual Chiss rescued from near death and now recovering in his medical bay, and Eli could only ask him surface-level questions about his species and travel plans. He damn near ached with frustration. Eli’s curiosity would make him a good trader, his mother had told him when he joined the family company. Right now, he would gladly swap a little of that curiosity for some focus. He had a job to do.

Because it wasn’t just the mystery of Thrawn’s experience on his exile planet (and  _ exile _ ? What could he have done?) that ate at Eli. It wasn’t just the being out of legend that now slept, mortal and fragile and in his care, aboard his ship. 

No, Eli’s distraction was more personal than that. It was Thrawn’s hands in his hair like Eli had pulled him back from a terrible descent, and his eyes, glowing red and glazed with fever, boring into Eli’s own. It was the way those eyes had drifted closed when Eli had brought him water, like it was a gift long-awaited instead of basic medical care, a totally inordinate reaction.

“Hey,” Kit prodded, breaking into his thoughts. “You still awake over there? I gotta fly this thing myself?” She poked him again.

“This thing already flies itself, don’t pretend you’re not expendable,” Eli fired back.

“You are the expendable one, baby cuz,” Kit said easily. “Anyway, let’s set our blue friend to the side for a minute. What’s your plan for when we get to the Beri?”

 

* * *

 

Beringer Outpost orbited a lopsided planetoid deep in Wild Space, far from its star and backlit by a large planetary nebula.

“The only reason this place gets as much business as it does is because it’s close to a few intersecting hyperspace lanes,” Kit said as they prepared to exit the ship onto the loading dock.

Thrawn appeared to be listening intently. He had insisted that he was well enough to accompany then onto the station and refused Kit’s suggestion of waiting on the ship while they found him a berth themselves. Thrawn definitely looked less deathly than he had, Eli thought, although he’d had to put his own ragged boots back on. Neither Eli nor Kit had shoes that came close to fitting him. Eli had given Thrawn a spare blanket, and with it wrapped around his shoulders and head he would almost blend into the diverse crowd of semi-respectable traders and travellers that passed through Beringer Outpost.

“Otherwise,” Kit continued, “there’d be no reason for anyone to be anywhere near here.” She finished the final checks and gave Eli a nod, and he threw the lever that would unseal the airlock and lower the loading ramp to the dock.

The dock outside the ship bustled with activity. Beringer Outpost was too small to separate its loading docks from its concourses, so floods of visitors ebbed and flowed around the trading ships as they were loaded and unloaded. Most were traders of varying degrees of respectability, but Eli caught the glint of white Stormtrooper armor through the crowds. The loading floor was cacophonous: Eli could identify four different trading languages just by listening for a a few seconds, and no doubt dozens more that he didn’t know were being shouted by the various traders.

“Keep an eye out, cousin,” Kit said, trotting down the loading ramp and flagging down a passing porter droid. “You too, Thrawn. Who knows what shifty characters you might run into here.” The droid beeped at her in irritation and she swore before diving into the crowd after it.

“Sorry,” Eli said. Beside him, Thrawn surveyed the teeming trading floor, face passive and arms folded. Eli couldn’t tell if he was deep in thought or just too tired to react. “That’s just the way she talks. She’s not trying to be condescending.”

“She was not,” Thrawn said.

“I don’t know about that,” Eli said. “It’s not important. Here, let’s look at the departure list and see if we can find you a ship.”

Unloading their cargo was a swift process once Kit returned with the droid, which transferred their shipping crates to the dock with a minimum of disgruntled beeping after Eli gave it their credit number. Their buyer showed up soon after that, and set off through the crowd with the crates loaded onto another porter droid, having paid for the transport of their goods in advance.

A straightforward transaction, Eli thought, until his communicator pinged.

“Ugh,” he said, scanning the message quickly. “Kit, it looks like our pickup’s running late. Apparently they got caught in a dust cloud coming into the system and all their sensors got jammed. They’re back on track, but they won’t dock for at least another four or five hours.”

“Yuck,” Kit said. “Well, nothing we can do about that. How’s it going to affect our next leg?”

Eli thought for a moment. “We’re going to have to ask the Dock Authority to push our departure slot back by at least six hours. If we want to avoid running into the dust cloud ourselves, I think we should detour to the Scar Bend route instead of sticking to Tursti. But that will add a week to our travel time.”

“The cargo isn’t perishable, and you know Mora Mirinaaia, it’s not a busy place. Takki isn’t going to care if we come in a few days behind schedule. Just clear it with your parents before we leave.”

“What about your rendezvous with the  _ Oxbird _ ?”

“It’s fine,” Kit said. “They work out of Mora Mirinaaia, I can’t miss them.”

Kit’s voice was light, but she didn’t meet Eli’s eyes. “Hey,” he said, twisting his hands together, “I’m sorry.” He touched her shoulder.

“Just comm your parents and tell them I’ll be late getting back to  _ Balancing Act _ ,” Kit said. “They won’t mind the delay if it comes from you, and  _ Oxbird  _ and  _ Balancing Act _ will have to be okay with it if they’ve signed off. It’ll all work out, okay?” She patted Eli’s hand where it rested on her shoulder.

“It gives us more time to find Thrawn a ship, too,” Eli said. Thrawn was still looking out over the trading floor, although he glanced Eli’s way when he noticed Eli’s gaze.

“That too,” Kit said. She sighed. “Okay, this is supposed to be your vessel, Eli, so you should talk to the Dock Authority. Tell them we need a departure vector for six hours from now, but don’t need to refuel. They’ll probably have us wait it out in orbit to clear the dock. Shouldn’t be any problems. While you’re doing that, I can take Thrawn around and introduce him to the nicer captains.”

“If I may ask a favor,” Thrawn said. “I am fluent in Sy Bisti but have some difficulty speaking Basic. Many here also seem to be speaking a variant of Chuncho, of which I know only a few words. As Eli is more fluent in Sy Bisti than you are-” he nodded to Kit “-and additionally speaks Basic, I would appreciate his skill in negotiating for a berth, considering that I am still recovering.”

“I’m not better than Kit at Sy Bisti,” Eli said.

“That is not the case. Your vocabulary is significantly larger, and you have mastered three tense forms that Kit still struggles with.”

“Regardless of our respective language skills,” Kit said, deadpan, “Eli’s still learning how to get around out here. He needs to start making connections for when he’s working on his own.”

“Come on, Kit,” Eli said. “It’s just talking to Dock Authority, I’ve done that before. I’ll make better connections by getting to know the captains who trade through here.” And he wanted to see a little more of Thrawn, solve a little more of that mystery, before he disappeared into space.

“Okay, that’s a good point,” Kit said, although she still looked a little disgruntled. Kit wasn’t a prideful person, and was a very good trader, but Thrawn had been blunt. “I actually think I saw Keeler Min down at the other end of the dock when I was chasing that droid. She’d be a good person for you to get to know, and she usually has a few open berths. You should start there, and tell her I said hello.”

But Keeler Min, when they found her, was less help than they had hoped.

“I’m full up,” she told them, mandibles clicking. “I’m picking up a load of agricultural diggers that were supposed to get to Kobslij a week ago, and I’ve had to-  _ hey _ !” she bellowed over her shoulder at the droids clustered around her cargo “- _ aft _ , I said to stow those  _ aft!  _ I’ve had to convert all my passenger berths into extra cargo space,” she continued without a pause. “Where did you say you were heading?” She gazed at Thrawn with faceted eyes.

“I have several vectors under consideration,” Thrawn said. He seemed to be looking intently over Keeler Min’s shoulder rather than directly at her. He was probably exhausted, Eli thought. “But no distinct plan, as yet.”

“Well, I’m sorry I couldn’t help,” Keeler Min said. “I’d try over on the starboard docks. Most of the ships there are headed towards the Mid Rim. Port side is mostly local traffic, if you’d rather stay in Wild Space.” Her eyes flicked over to the droids loading her ship. “Incompetent,” she muttered. “I’ll see you out there, young Vanto.”

And she marched back to her ship without another word.

“That’s unlucky,” Eli said, turning towards the starboard concourses. Thrawn, however, still surveyed the knot of droids, crewmembers, and cargo crates surrounding Keeler Min’s ship. 

“Come on,” Eli prompted. “We still have time to find you a berth, but I need to get back to the ship before Kit comes looking.” Eli tried to keep his voice neutral, but he suspected some of his disappointment was leaking through.

Curiosity. He was curious; he hadn’t even had a chance to ask about the Chiss. That was all. 

Thrawn nodded absently. “How is agricultural equipment usually transported?” he asked.

Eli bit back a sigh. “It depends,” he said. “Most people ship heavy equipment, like farming and mining machines, uncrated. She had it crated up, which is good if you’re worried about it coming loose during the trip and putting your ship out of trim, especially if you’re going to be flying in atmo rather than vacuum.” Where was Thrawn going with this?

Thrawn was apparently uninterested in sharing his thought process. He gazed at the ship for a moment more, before seemingly reaching a decision and striding off down the dock--back the way they had come.

“Hey, that’s the wrong way,” Eli said, hurrying to catch up. Thrawn was moving very quickly for someone who had been largely bed-ridden until that morning; Eli wasn’t short, but he had a hard time keeping up.

The crowds thickened as they made their way back towards the ship until they were pressed tightly together in the crush. Thrawn was forced to slow down, and without asking he put his hand on Eli’s shoulder for support, leaning hard. Eli staggered for a moment under his weight, then got his feet back under him and began steering them towards a clear spot near a support pillar.

Thrawn leaned against the pillar when they reached it, the only indication that he was feeling less than optimal. That, and the hand he left on Eli’s shoulder. But then Thrawn seemed to notice where his hand lay, or to remember something, and he lifted it away.

“Most shipments of the kind that pass through this outpost consist of the primary shipment and filler goods, is that correct?” Thrawn asked.

Why this focus on the cargo ships? Did Thrawn even want to find a passenger berth? 

“Yes,” Eli said cautiously.

“And could you tell what was being loaded, primary shipment or filler, based on the movements of those doing the loading, or the location where the cargo was stored?”

“I...I’ve never thought about it,” Eli said. “It would depend on the weight of the goods, the size of the ship and its cargo bays, what kind of fuel the ship used...I suppose you could make a guess, but I don’t know how accurate it would be.”

“No doubt the accuracy of any guess made would also depend on where the ship was going and where it had been, as well as the likely hyperspace routes it had taken.” Thrawn paused, and Eli thought he saw his shoulders drop slightly. “Indulge me. Was Keeler Min loading agricultural equipment, or something else?”

“She said that’s what she was shipping,” Eli protested. “It’s not really our business.” But his mind was already beginning to turn over the details. The porter droids struggling with the shipping crates, the odd distribution of weight across the ship...it didn’t quite add up.

Thrawn watched him think, a small smile on his face. “What are your conclusions?” he asked after a few minutes.

“She might not have been loading diggers,” Eli said. “But she might have loaded them already, and the crates we saw may have been filler.”

“Both true,” Thrawn said. “But consider: Keeler Min told us that she was delivering to Kobslij, which is quite rocky and contains very little arable land, and would therefore have little use for farming equipment.”

“And I looked at the import data that had been filed over the past few days while we were on the way in,” Eli said. “I don’t remember any heavy equipment of any kind being listed. But we saw her loading, and she said she was picking her diggers up here. So what was in those crates? And why would she lie about it?”

“Both interesting questions,” Thrawn said. He straightened up and pushed himself off the pillar, his hand coming to rest again on Eli’s shoulder. It was a little patronizing, Eli supposed, the way Thrawn just assumed that Eli would be there to support him, but, well. Eli was there to support him.

In fact, Thrawn seemed to be leaning on Eli a little more heavily than he had before, his fingers clenched on Eli’s shoulder. 

“Are you all right?” Eli asked.

“I am fine,” Thrawn said. He hesitated. “The noise is somewhat overstimulating,” he finally admitted. 

“I thought so,” Eli said. He put his arm around Thrawn’s waist, and Thrawn leaned on him a little harder. “Come on, let’s go back to the ship.”

Thrawn leaned on Eli all the way back; Eli was forcibly reminded of how he’d staggered across the clearing on Thrawn’s exile planet, supporting nearly all of Thrawn’s weight on his shoulders, desperate to get to the medbay before Thrawn’s body failed. The situation was a little different now.

Eli paused when they were almost to the medbay. “You know,” he said, “there’s an extra bunk in my cabin. It’s not much bigger than the medbay cot, but it’s probably more comfortable. You’re welcome to use it as long as you stay with us.” 

He didn’t care about the answer, he told himself. It would probably be more practical for Thrawn to stay in the medbay, to be closer to the medication if he needed it. And anyway, Thrawn would still be leaving soon.

“I would appreciate that, Eli,” Thrawn said, and something bloomed in Eli’s chest.

They couldn’t walk side by side in the narrow corridor, so they separated, Thrawn following Eli down to the crew quarters. Eli’s cabin was tiny: two bunks firmly bolted to the wall, one on top of the other, a locker for storage, and a ‘fresher cubicle shared with Kit’s cabin next door. Eli pulled the blankets and pillow off his bed and threw them to the upper bunk. When he turned to get fresh bedding from the locker, he found Thrawn staring at him.

“What?” he asked. In the dim cabin, Thrawn’s eyes glowed. It was...really interesting. A little unnerving, if Eli was being honest, but mostly fascinating.

“I did not intend that you should give up your bed,” Thrawn said slowly. Something passed over his face, but Eli couldn’t read it.

“You just nearly died,” he said. Thrawn flinched almost imperceptibly. “I’m not going to make you climb into the upper bunk every night, that’s insane.” He grabbed a sheet at random out of the locker and stretched it over the lower bunk mattress, then tossed on a few blankets.

Thrawn nodded. “I believe I will rest now,” he said. He lay down on the bunk, long legs curled to fit, and closed his eyes.

Eli watched for a moment, then turned to go.

“Eli,” he heard behind him. “Thank you.”

Eli paused at the door, something unfamiliar roiling within him, something too big for words. He pushed it down to a more manageable size. “You’re welcome,” he said, and left.

 

* * *

 

“...so be on the lookout for anything rare, but don’t buy into zir stories about whatever it is. Nine times out of ten, it’s a piece of junk. But every now and then, you get lucky,” Kit was saying, pointing her fork at Eli. They were eating dinner in the tiny central crew area of the ship. Eli had looked in on Thrawn, who had still been asleep, and had decided not to wake him. 

Meanwhile, Kit was doing her older-and-wiser routine. Eli could handle himself at their next stop. He didn’t really  _ need _ her advice. 

“Yeah,” Eli said. His mind was on Thrawn’s gaze at Keeler Min’s ship, his questions about what they’d seen at the Outpost. Hadn’t there been more shipments of heavy equipment than usual going through the trading posts they’d visited on this route? He hadn’t connected them, but now that he thought about it, it did make a compelling pattern.

Why would someone in Thrawn’s position--alone, desperate, exiled--care about shipping activity in Wild Space? 

“Are you listening?” Kit said. 

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just tired,” Eli lied. He felt wide-awake, very aware that when he returned to his quarters, Thrawn would be there, too. 

“Uh-huh,” Kit said, obviously unconvinced. “So it didn’t work out with Min, huh?”

“No room,” Eli said. Kit hadn’t asked about it when she’d arrived back at the ship and found them both there, just given him a meaningful look. 

“And no one else had space?” 

“He wasn’t feeling well,” Eli said, not meeting her eyes. 

“And he’s bunking with you now?” 

Eli felt himself blush, his face growing hot. A family trait, but he always hated how it made him so easy to read. Then again, Kit was sometimes too perceptive for her own good. “I have the extra space; you don’t,” he muttered. 

_ “We have traded service for service _ ,” Kit quoted, waving her hands expansively at him and grinning. “ _ My life is yours _ . Is that what he said to you?” 

That old story. Secretly, it had always been Eli’s favorite tale of the Chiss. A Lysatran woodswoman discovered an injured Chiss warrior and nursed her back to health. The Chiss served the woodswoman for a year and a day, and at the end of her service, asked the woodswoman to marry her. 

Eli rolled his eyes at Kit, but didn’t take the bait.

She grew serious then. “Eli, we don’t even know what he was doing on that planet. And if some of the stories about the Chiss are true at all, we might not want to know.”

“He was exiled,” Eli said without thinking. 

“ _ Exiled _ ?” Kit said. “What, like a criminal?” 

She half-stood, as though she were going to go demand an explanation from Thrawn right then and there. 

“He said it was a political disagreement,” Eli said. “I don’t think it was--I don’t think he’s dangerous.” Eli thought about Thrawn studying Min’s ship, his sharp questioning, his impassive expression.  _ I don’t think he’s dangerous  _ to us _ , _ he amended. 

Kit frowned at him. “Well,” she said. “That’s your job to figure out. And it won’t matter soon, anyway.” 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Thrawn wasn’t asleep when Eli arrived back in their now-shared quarters. Instead, he was stretched out on the bottom bunk, his feet and legs significantly over the edge, reading something on Eli’s datapad. He lay there shirtless, the blanket he’d been using as a makeshift tunic neatly folded next to him.

Eli tried not to look. Well, he tried not to be too obvious about looking. It wasn’t just Thrawn’s motives that Eli was curious about. Everything about him was enticing: his voice, the sharp angles of his face, the flat red of his eyes. It was easy to see why the old stories warned about the allure of the Chiss.

They would have to find him something to wear at their next stop.

Thrawn looked up from his reading. “I generally need only a few hours of sleep a night,” he said. “Based on what I’ve observed of your ship’s day/night cycle, as I recover I’ll need less sleep than you, I think. Will that bother you?”

“No,” Eli said. “That’s fine.”

He clambered into the top bunk and found that the tangle of blankets he’d left there earlier had been neatly arranged, the sheets straightened and tucked in. There was only one person who could have done that, but Eli couldn’t imagine _why._ Should he mention it? Ask about it? Say thank you?

The moment stretched out, and then, Eli decided, it passed entirely.

“I saved you some food,” Eli said to the ceiling. “It's in the kitchen. You don't have to stay in here, you know, you're not our prisoner.”

“You are quick to trust me,” Thrawn said. “Kit is not. I will not test her patience.”

Eli bristled a little at that. “I wouldn't say I _trust_ you, exactly, either,” he said. Even underneath his fascination, the feelings that Thrawn's touch sparked in him, he didn't think _trust_ was the right word. “But I don't think you mean us any _harm_. What would hurting us do for you? You have more reason to help us than to work against us, after all.”

“True,” Thrawn said. “I am in your debt, and in many ways at your mercy.”

Eli thought he could detect a hint of frustration in Thrawn's voice at that, the same frustration that had driven him to push himself that day, to end up leaning on Eli for support again. Who had he been, among his own people? A political disagreement resulting in exile, if that were true, implied that he had had enough power to be influential. A person like that wouldn't want to display weakness, or to rely on someone else so completely.

“It might help us to trust you if we knew more about you,” Eli said. It wasn't the most subtle bid for information, but his curiosity was killing him.

“There is not much to know,” Thrawn said.

Eli couldn't help it, he scoffed out loud. “I’m guessing _that’s_ not true.” It was easier to do this without having to meet that glowing red gaze. He wasn't sure he'd have been able to challenge Thrawn if he'd had to look at him directly. “You don’t have to say. But it would help to know.”

“I was a commander in our military,” Thrawn said, clearly weighing each word carefully. “My superiors and I disagreed over a matter of strategy. But mine was the right approach. I took it, in defiance of our principles, and I accepted the consequences.”

“Which principles?” Eli asked. _Mine was the right approach._ It sounded unbelievably arrogant, but Eli found himself wanting to be convinced, even knowing nothing about the situation.

“The Chiss do not believe in needless military aggression,” Thrawn said. “In preemptive strikes. However, we had enemies whom I judged to be enough of a threat to warrant such intervention.”

“Enough of a threat to risk being exiled for going after them?” Eli asked.

“Yes,” Thrawn said. No question there, no regret. Just acceptance. “They were pirates, marauders who captured and enslaved sentient beings. Eventually, their gaze would have turned toward my people. I prevented needless bloodshed.”

Thrawn's voice was deadly calm. Needless bloodshed implied such a thing as needful bloodshed. _Not dangerous_ , Eli thought ruefully. _Sure_. His heart pounded as though he were standing at the edge of a cliff rather than lying peacefully in bed. Thrawn, recovered enough for verbal sparring, was dangerous indeed. Maybe not physically, but clearly in plenty of other ways.

And given his line of questioning, his odd interests in the activities at the Outpost, Thrawn had motives that Eli couldn't even guess. Objectives that had nothing to do with being exiled and alone in the Empire, with finding shelter and assistance.

“I didn't think the Chiss exiled each other,” Eli finally said. “In the stories, they--you’re all loyal to each other, but harsh to outsiders.”

“Hm,” Thrawn said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with the statement. “I have been meaning to ask. You recognized me as a Chiss. You mention stories. Where is your home that we are familiar to you?”

“I'm from a planet called Lysatra,” Eli said. “Kit and I both are. It's in this region, Wild Space. I wouldn't say we're familiar with your people, but we have stories of the Chiss. Legends, myths. They're probably all made up.”

“Myths can sometimes contain truths,” Thrawn said. “Your people probably had contact with mine in the past. I would like to hear one of the myths, if you would share it.”

Eli couldn’t imagine sitting next to an actual Chiss, meeting that cool, appraising gaze, and telling him a _story_ meant for children.

His face was getting hot again. Part of his mind urged caution, distrust. The other part was pushing for something else entirely.

“Sure,” he said, finally. He wasn’t exactly sure which part of him had won _that_ battle. “I'm not the best storyteller, but let me think about it and I'll tell you some later.”

Another pause. It went on long enough that Eli was about to roll over and actually try to sleep, when Thrawn asked, “If you had no direct contact with any of my people, and your databases were lacking in information, how did you determine the course of medical treatment I needed?”

It wasn't the question Eli had expected. And, he realized, he'd stopped asking questions of his own and was now answering Thrawn's instead. “Well, I was desperate,” he said. “So I tried some things that might not have been exactly right. But you had told me that one fever reducer would work and the other wouldn't. That gave me a place to start researching your biology, and it also told me the range your body temperature might fall into. You were clearly running a high fever, but your temperature was close to normal for a human. So I just did some research and figured that I couldn't possibly make it any worse than it already was.”

There was a considering silence. Eli wished he could see Thrawn’s face--then again, Thrawn was hard to read. It wasn’t likely Eli would be able to figure out what he was thinking anyway.

“That was resourceful,” Thrawn finally said. “And generous.”

“Well, we wouldn’t have ignored a distress call,” Eli said, blushing again. He didn’t mind being thanked, but he’d never saved someone’s life before. That was a different level of gratitude altogether. “Or the condition we found you in.”

“Some might have.”

“Not out here,” Eli said firmly. “We’re far from Coruscant--the capitol--and we mostly get ignored. So we look out for each other.”

“Interesting that soldiers from your military would be stationed in a remote outpost, then,” Thrawn said, almost idly. “If this is a region that is regularly ignored.”

That _was_ odd, now that Eli thought about it. He’d forgotten about the troopers himself, focused on Thrawn and the riddle of Min’s cargo. And they were _stormtroopers_ , you saw them around everywhere in the Empire these days.

But not everywhere. He’d never seen stormtroopers in Beringer Outpost before.

“Huh,” Eli said. “You’re right.” His mind was spinning, trying to grasp the pattern here. Something about all of this was connected. Some picture Thrawn was trying to put together. Eli felt like he could almost see pieces of it himself for a moment.

And then he shook his head. He was too curious for his own good. Too curious, too trusting, too softhearted. Whatever this was, whoever Thrawn was, it didn’t matter. He was losing sight of what he was supposed to be doing out here. The next time he was on a run, he was supposed to be in charge. This was his last opportunity to do this route with someone with experience, like Kit. He had to focus.

“I almost went into the Imperial Navy, a couple of years ago,” Eli said, to change the subject. “Into supply and logistics, not the Stormtrooper Corps. But there’s been some unrest, recently. The Clone Wars only ended eight years ago, and people out here haven’t forgotten. My family thought the trading business was safer.”

“Risk is everywhere,” Thrawn said. No doubt that was true, but what did it _mean?_ No explanation was forthcoming, though. “The military likely would have suited you at least as well as your current profession, from my point of view. I apologize for keeping you awake.”

“It’s okay,” Eli said, turning over. He felt confusingly warmed by the compliment--at least, it had sounded like a compliment. He stayed wide-awake for a long time after they fell silent, turning over the conversation and the day’s events in his mind.

And just before he really did drift off to sleep, he was suddenly struck by a single, final thought: _Why would an exile be given comm equipment in the first place? Isn’t that like giving a prisoner a set of lockpicks?_

Then he remembered something else, and his eyes snapped open in shock. Something Thrawn had said, one of the first things he had said, in fact, when he’d still been only half-conscious: _“Lost communication.”_

Lost communication with who?

Eli stared at the ceiling, stunned. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. But something didn’t fit. And he was going to figure out what it was.

 

* * *

 

Thrawn awoke several hours later, momentarily disoriented until he remembered where he was: Eli’s cabin.

Eli’s _bed_.

Not Eli’s bed, he told himself. The bunk where Eli had been sleeping, ceded to Thrawn as a reasonable accommodation of Thrawn’s recent sickness. Eli had been right: climbing in and out of the upper bunk every day would have been possible, but difficult. This way was better.

He had pulled the blankets up around his ears in the night, leaving his feet uncovered and now slightly cold. Above him, Eli breathed softly, the light breaths of someone near waking. There was no chrono that Thrawn could see, but his own internal sense of time told him it was nearly ship’s day.

His lingering weakness had made him sleep longer than he had anticipated. Thrawn had wanted to rise early and, while Eli and Kit still slept, explore the ship beyond the basic tour Eli had given him. He would need information about their comm setup if he wanted to contact the Ascendency, and information about their flight controls if taking the ship himself became an option. Even examining their flight plans would be valuable.

He had spent long enough recovering, long enough paralyzed by his failure, long enough off-balance by Eli’s generosity. He needed a plan again to center him.

Today, at least, it didn’t matter: Eli stirred on the bunk above him, and his breathing changed from a sleeping rhythm to a waking one. His feet appeared over the edge of the bunk and he dropped to the floor lightly. He glanced guiltily at Thrawn, then smiled when he saw that Thrawn was awake.

“Good morning,” Eli said. His hair stood up in waves around his head. “Are you feeling better?”

Thrawn sat up, and was pleased when no dizziness or pain accompanied the movement. “I believe so,” he said. “Sleep has been restorative.”

“I’m glad,” Eli said. “Listen, I have some work around the ship to do today, but give me five minutes in the ‘fresher--you can go after me if you want--and then I’ll get us both some breakfast. You can sleep more afterwards, or I can give you my datapad again.”

“I would appreciate breakfast, thank you,” Thrawn said, deferring the question of how he would spend his time.

Eli smiled again and headed into the ‘fresher.

A short time later, they sat together in the ship’s tiny galley, the remains of their breakfast littering the fold-down table between them. Eli had provided several different flavors of protein bar, all rather dry and tasteless to Thrawn’s tongue. Eli had exhibited no such dissatisfaction, eating three bars in quick succession without appearing to take any notice of their taste or texture. Now he sat across from Thrawn, cradling a cup of caf. It warmed his hands, made them glow with heat.

“What work do you need to do on the ship today?” Thrawn asked.

Eli made a face. “Something’s going on with our ventral stabilizers,” he said. “I don’t know if you noticed how the ship handled when we were leaving the Beri, but it could have been way better.” He took a drink of caf, the lingering heat fading on his mouth.

“I did notice, in fact,” Thrawn said. He’d done no such thing, having been too tired and disoriented when they got back to the ship to notice much of anything.

“Well, Kit and I usually work on the ship together when something needs fixing, but she’s up on the bridge doing some data processing for her real job, and that’ll take most of the day. So I guess I’ll figure something out.”

“I could help,” Thrawn said. “I have some experience maintaining ships of this type.” That was true, mostly.

Eli looked at him speculatively. “Are you sure you’re up to it?” he asked. “You, uh, didn’t look so good when we came in yesterday.”

“If I feel in danger of a relapse, I will lie down immediately,” Thrawn assured him, and was pleased when Eli smiled at the joke.

“I’ll keep the fainting couch handy,” Eli said. He stood up and swept the protein bar wrappers  into the mass recycler. “Come on, the access port is down in the cargo bay.”

 

* * *

 

“Can you see the problem?” Eli asked.

The access port had not been in the cargo bay after all. They had spent most of the previous hour wandering the ship, opening access ports in search of the circuits controlling the ventral stabilizers. Eli had eventually found the correct port in a storage closet, but it was slightly too high for him to reach comfortably, and there was only room for one person in the closet anyway.

Thrawn was therefore crammed into the closet along with the cleaning supplies, holding a light-stick between his teeth and attempting to diagnose the stabilizers while Eli hovered behind him.

He took the light-stick out of his mouth and balanced it precariously on the access port door. “I can see it,” he said.

He could see a lot more than the stabilizers: this access port also opened on the long-range comm circuits, a lucky boon. Thrawn had managed to locate the life support, navigation, and flight control systems while he and Eli searched for the right port, but the comm systems had eluded him. Now, here they were, exactly where he needed to be working anyway.

Fortunately, the problem with the ventral stabilizers was easy to spot. “Your--forgive me, I do not know what you would call it. The link between the gyros and the external sensors.”

“The Nillsen chain?”

“As you say. The Nillsen chain is degraded and has worked itself loose. I can temporarily resituate it, but it should be replaced.”

“Okay,” Eli said. “I think we can get a new one at our next stop. What do you need?”

“A torsion wrench, first. Four-aught copper wire, later.”

Eli passed him the wrench. Thrawn didn’t truly need it--the displaced Nillsen chain could be adjusted manually--but it would be helpful for what he had in mind for the comm circuits.

“Yesterday, you said you might tell me some of the stories your people have of the Chiss,” he said.

“I did,” Eli said. He sounded dubious. “You want to hear one right now?”

“If you would,” Thrawn said.

He put the light-stick back into his mouth and shifted subtly so that his body would block Eli’s view of the access port. Working smoothly and quickly, he snapped the Nillsen chain back into place.

“Okay,” Eli said. Thrawn heard him lean against the bulkhead. “How about...all right. Long and long ago, there was a Lysatran man named Janny who mined for ore in the farthest reaches of a lonely asteroid belt. Janny was always looking for riches, for treasure, but he never wanted to work hard like his fellow miners. Instead, he followed every rumor of rich veins and heavy yields he heard of, never staying in one place for long, and never finding the treasure he sought.”

Thrawn lifted the wrench and began loosening the comm circuits. He had wanted to hear one of Eli’s stories, true, but equally he had wanted to keep Eli slightly distracted while Thrawn made his modifications.

He smiled to himself. An action that accomplished more than one goal was always satisfying to execute.

“One day, Janny wandered further he ever had before, until he had come to a place he had never seen before. And there he saw the strangest ship he had ever seen, and inside was a man, even stranger.”

Here Eli paused, as though he was nervous to introduce the character of the Chiss.

“The wire, please,” Thrawn asked around the light-stick. Eli passed the spool of wire up to him, and Thrawn began constructing a bypass in the comm circuit. “You may continue.”

“Right. The man was tall, with hair that gleamed black like richest ore and eyes that glowed red like gems, and Janny knew he was a Chiss. Now, in those days all knew that the Chiss were great hoarders of ore and minerals, so Janny knew that if he could find the Chiss’s hoard, he would be rich.”

Eli’s voice trailed off with embarrassment, then strengthened.

“They argued and fought and bargained, until finally the Chiss agreed to bring Janny to his hoard. And when they arrived, deep in the asteroid belt, it was the richest vein of ore Janny had ever seen.

“But Janny knew that he didn’t have the right equipment to excavate such a rich vein of ore, and knew that he wouldn’t be able to find the vein again on his own, so he marked the entrance to the mine with a cross and made the Chiss promise not to disturb it. Then he flew back to his fellow miners and told them all about the treasure he had discovered, and begged to use their equipment.

“But when Janny flew back to the asteroid, he found that every tunnel, every crack, every crevice in its surface had been marked with a cross, and the Chiss was gone. He never found the vein again. And that is the tale.”

“Interesting,” Thrawn said. He placed a final piece of wire into the comm circuit. He could now send short coded messages far enough to be picked up by the Ascendency’s most distant relays: nothing complicated, and the messages would take time to make their way to the Defense Fleet. And the relay only worked one-way; he could send but not receive.

But it didn’t matter.

He was back in contact with his home.

“Why did you choose that particular story to tell?” Thrawn asked. When he turned to exit the closet, Eli was leaning on the wall opposite, arms folded across his chest. A flush was fading from his face.

“It was the first story my father told me about the Chiss. Seemed like a good story to start with,” Eli said. He met Thrawn’s eyes squarely.

The message was clear: _I don’t trust you_.

Wise.


	4. Chapter 4

 

Eli and Kit didn’t bother setting watches with only the two of them aboard, trusting the onboard sensors to wake them if something was wrong. A mistake, in Thrawn’s opinion, but civilian ships didn’t operate under the same parameters as did military ships. And it afforded him an advantage now.

Thrawn had retired early the previous night. Working on the ship had tired him again, and he had wanted to ensure he was rested enough to awaken early, before Eli or Kit, and use his new comm circuit.

He rose from the bed and padded barefoot to the door. Eli mumbled something and turned over as he pushed it open, but appeared not to wake, and Thrawn slipped through the doorway and into the corridor undetected.

The closet where the access port was located was at the other end of the ship from the crew quarters, past the galley and medbay. The galley, like the medbay, was just an alcove off the main corridor, with cabinets for food and utensil storage, small appliances for cooking, and a fold-down table and chairs. A light glowed in the darkness of the corridor, and as Thrawn drew closer he saw Kit seated at the table, hands clutched around a mug of what smelled like caf.

Unfortunate. But misfortune could always be turned into opportunity.

He had made no noise, standing there in the corridor, but Kit looked up suddenly, her eyes unerringly locking on to his location. He approached the table, and Kit’s face settled into a blandly welcoming expression.

“Hi, Thrawn,” she said. “Can’t sleep?”

“I was hungry,” he replied. “Is there breakfast?”

“There’s leftover dinner. Eli saved you a plate,” Kit said, nodding at one of the cabinets. She pulled her caf closer to her chest, perhaps in reaction to his proximity, perhaps because it was cold in the galley.

“Thank you.” Thrawn opened the cabinet and drew out a covered plate. Upon examination, it contained a surprisingly fresh mix of real vegetables and synthesized protein, better than he had expected.

“I’m the cook around here,” Kit said. “As long as it’s simple. Eli never notices what he eats and would be completely happy with long-haul rations, but I need a real vegetable now and then or I get itchy.”

“Again, thank you,” Thrawn said. He folded himself into the tiny chair and tucked his knees under the table. They barely fit without bumping into Kit’s, but somehow he managed. 

Kit eyed him sidelong, her hands clenched around her mug and the muscles in her shoulders tense. He pretended to ignore her for the moment, considering. The food was more than adequate even cold, and he took a few bites to quiet his stomach before turning his attention to what really interested him. The direct approach would suit Kit best, he decided. 

“How long have you commanded this vessel?” he asked.

The muscles around Kit’s mouth tightened for a split second, and her facial heat fractionally increased.“Well, technically I’m not in command,” she said. “But we’re in the last week of a twelve-week run. I’ll be back to my real job in a few cycles, after our next stop.”

“You are not in command here?” Thrawn asked, frowning. “You are more experienced than Eli and are a more natural trader. And he often defers to you. Yet you imply that it is Eli, not you, who commands?”

“Well, it’s a slightly delicate situation. Eli is the son of the company owners. I’m a distant cousin.”

“I do not understand.”

Kit laughed. “Stars, you really aren’t from around here. Eli’s parents own the company. That means he doesn’t have to start out doing the grunt work like the rest of us. When I joined, I was placed on a freighter running cargoes of chatta ore between Bel Tok and Prinamula. The most boring job in the galaxy, and you have to do it covered in green dust, wearing a respirator even when you sleep, and smelling like a stale mineshaft.” 

She took a drink of her caf and set it back down on the table a little too hard.

“I take it most traders in the company’s employ start out similarly?” Thrawn asked.

“It depends on what they’re training you for, but yeah, basically. Took me a few years to get off the ore freighters and into the more interesting stuff. I’m a junior trader on the  _ Balancing Act _ , one of the company’s specialized freighters, now. Meanwhile, Eli’s first job is a milk run, doing actual valuable trading and shipping, with his own ship and me to babysit.” Kit’s shoulders sagged.

“From what I’ve seen, you’ve guided him well,” Thrawn said. “A good mentor can be invaluable.” Kit was clearly dissatisfied with her situation, and would continue talking with little prompting to an ear she felt was sympathetic.

Sure enough, Kit’s facial heat glowed brighter. “Well, I’m not going to sabotage him or anything. It’s just a weird situation. You’re right, I have more experience, and I’m supposed to be showing Eli the ropes, but Eli can technically overrule me because of who his parents are.” Kit waved her hand tiredly. “I really shouldn’t be saying this.”

“I have no one to tell,” Thrawn pointed out. “Is this kind of arrangement common?” It seemed likely to brew instability and power struggles to him, a disappointingly ineffective way of managing an organization.

“Common?” Kit lifted her head and looked straight at him, mouth slightly open. “Where have you been? This kind of nepotism is how the Empire  _ functions _ . It would be more surprising if Eli  _ didn’t  _ get special treatment. And it’s worse the closer you get to Coruscant. To get anything done in the Core it’s all about who you’re related to, who owes you a favor, who you can squeeze for special treatment, or who’s squeezing you. Politics, basically.”

This was not unexpected, but nonetheless disturbing. Thrawn and Ar’alani had been able to do some research into the Empire before Thrawn’s insertion. He knew the basics of their systems, their political setup. He knew that unrest and instability had followed the Clone Wars, and that rebel cells had begun to chip away at the Empire’s monolith.  But how an entity like the Empire operated from the ground up--this was valuable information, information he could use as leverage when he had the opportunity.

“Eli said that the Empire held little sway in this part of the Galaxy,” he said, testing.

“That doesn’t mean that this isn’t Empire territory, or that they don’t influence the way we do things.” Kit sighed. “Is this really so surprising to you? It’s like this everywhere.”

“Not among my people,” Thrawn said. Sometimes, one had to give a small amount of information to elicit greater returns. “For example, those who achieve high rank in our military give up their family names to indicate their loyalty to the Chiss as a whole, not merely to their family.”

“Sounds nice,” Kit said. “But I bet some of those families are more influential than others, right?”

“Of course.”

“Thought so. Look, it’s not that big a deal, okay? Eli’s a good kid, and he knows this is unfair. It’s not his fault his parents are treating us all this way.”

“It is always wise to place the blame where it truly lies,” Thrawn agreed.

“Cheers,” Kit said, raising her mug. “But speaking of Eli, he told me something interesting about how you came to be on that hunk of rock where we picked you up.” 

She fixed him with a long stare.

The stare would have intimidated most humans, and the reference to their life-saving intervention was a nice touch. But Thrawn had stared down the Defense Force High Command as well as the council of Aristocra, and this woman had a lot of practice to do before she could intimidate him. Thrawn stared back, aware that many non-Chiss could not meet his blank red eyes for long.

Kit held out longer than he had expected, her facial heat glowing and jaw set, but even she eventually looked away.. “He said you were exiled after a political disagreement?” she asked.

“Yes.” Give her minimal information, and she would fill in the blanks.

“Well, no wonder you’re so interested in Empire politics,” she said, after a moment's silence made it clear that was all he would reveal. “Listen. Eli’s technically in charge here, and he seems to like having you around. So if you want to stay, he’d probably let you. But I’m still responsible for him, and it’s my ass on the line if anything happens to him because of you.” 

“I have no intention of harming Eli,” Thrawn said, completely truthfully.

“Good,” Kit said. “Don’t make it my problem, and I won’t make it your problem.” She drained her cup and, standing, set it on the table. “I’m going to get a jump on the day. When Eli wakes up, let him know he needs to run an assessment on our fuel efficiency. Did he fill you in on our schedule?”

“We dock at Mora Mirinaaia in three days, ship’s time,” Thrawn said.

“That’s right. Plenty of time to kill.”

Kit headed off towards the cockpit, and Thrawn sat at the table, thinking. 

If Kit was right, and Eli liked having him around, that could be an advantage of a different kind. Kit would soon return to her real job, leaving Eli to continue his route alone--unless Thrawn could convince Eli to let him stay. Traveling with a trader would present a wider range of opportunities to exploit than would remaining on a single station or planet: it was entirely likely that he could seek out or engineer a situation that would bring him to the attention of the Imperial Navy, as he had originally planned.

Then he would be back on track, this odd interlude of doubt and misery behind him.

That he would stay at Eli’s side for a little longer was not an advantage, merely an outcome of a reasonable course of action.

Thrawn finished his food in a few quick bites, then set the plate aside to be washed and rose to his feet. His modifications to the comm circuit were undisturbed when he opened the port in the supply closet, and he tapped out a quick message in a burst of coded signals.

_ IK-3759D2 > LK-5320D3 unforeseen change. no action required. _

It was good to have made a decision, good to see the shape of the future coming into focus before him. He would return to the cabin and wake Eli, and opportunity would follow.

 

* * *

 

Opportunity was not immediately obvious when they docked at Mora Mirinaaia some three days and five hours later. The trading post was even smaller than Beringer Outpost, just a deep space listening station that made a little extra money by charging passing traders to do business there.

“A great place to pick up gossip, though, which is why we still use it,” Kit said as they exited the ship onto the tiny docks.

In stark contrast to Beringer Outpost, Mora Mirinaaia was nearly empty, just a few travellers and traders loitering on the docks, most hooded and cloaked or wearing face-obscuring helmets. Thrawn noticed a few sidelong glances being thrown their way, but otherwise no one reacted.

“It’s because of the listening station,” Eli filled in. “They do a little sublight and radio monitoring for the Empire, and of course the official broadcasts go through here, but their setup is also modified for, uh, extra-legal pickups.” He caught Thrawn’s eye and his facial heat flared. “I’ve been through here before,” he said.

“Critical information for all Vanto Shipping trade captains and affiliates,” Kit said cheerfully. “Nothing to be ashamed of. Come on, let’s find Thrawn some clothes that fit before we have to unload.”

It took a while to hunt down garments large enough to fit him, but they managed, even finding a pair of boots that were slightly less ragged than his current pair. He ended up wearing the dark trousers, light buttoned shirt, and open vest that seemed ubiquitous in this part of space, all battered but in decent condition.

“You’ll blend in,” Eli said, when they’d returned to the ship. His facial heat was glowing again and he was swallowing frequently, a response that Thrawn was hesitant to interpret. “Or you would, if people around here had ever seen a Chiss before.”

“Is that likely to be a problem?” Thrawn asked.

“Oh, no,” Eli said. He hesitated. “Well, probably not. The Empire in general is pretty xenophobic, to be honest. There’s a lot of anti-non-human sentiment in the Core especially, and attitudes in the Core are influential even out here. But humans in the Outer Rim and Wild Space are much more likely to encounter, uh, non-humans, other species, so it’s less of an issue. Or at least it’s less overt.”

Thrawn had anticipated something similar, when he and Ar’alani had planned this mission, but it was oddly disappointing to have his expectations confirmed. It would be one more barrier once he had resumed his mission and infiltrated the Imperial Navy, and that was...frustrating.

“I see,” was all he said.

“Anyway,” Eli said, clearly ready to change the subject, “I see the dockmaster headed over, we should go talk to him.

The dockmaster was human, short, with skin a few shades lighter than Eli’s and hair a few shades darker. His face was uncovered, unlike most of the other people passing through Mora Miriniaaia, but the dozens of silver piercings decorating his face and ears had much the same obscuring effect.

“Vantos!” the dockmaster cried. Silver flickered inside his mouth when he spoke; tongue piercings, Thrawn thought. “Always so thrilling to see you. You have such an air of legitimacy. It’s so charming, so unusual. What have you brought for me today? A new friend, I see?” He looked Thrawn over with interest.

“We haven’t brought  _ you  _ anything, Takki,” Eli said. Kit seemed happy to hang back and let him deal with the dockmaster, although she paid close attention to the conversation. “We’re delivering a shipment, just like we always do. Our friend is traveling with us for a while.”

“Vantos are always so close-mouthed,” Takki said to Thrawn, shoulders and face miming exaggerated sorrow. “It’s tragic. Information should not be contained.”

“It’s professional discretion,” Eli said, a small smile tugging the corner of his mouth. “Come on, Takki, we do this every time.”

“Tragic,” Takki repeated, shaking his head. His earrings clinked.

“Guess you’re right,” Eli said. “Listen, we need to stay in port for about an hour, just until our delivery gets picked up, and then we’ll be out of here. But I also need a new Nillsen chain for our ventral stabilizers. You have one of those?”

“I have everything for the Vantos,” Takki replied. “Fifty.”

“Don’t even try that with me. Fifteen.”

“You are good customers, so I will give you a discount. Thirty.”

“Twenty, and I test it before you get the credits,” Eli said.

“Done.” They shook hands. “And now,” Takki said, rubbing his hands together, “you bring nothing for me, and you bargain me out of all my profits, but I still have something for you.” He leaned closer. “I’ve picked up something very interesting on my sublight frequencies,” he said. He paused, waiting for their reaction.

“Are you going to tell us, or just pause for dramatics?” Kit asked.

Takki made a face at her. “Keeler Min,” he said.

Both Kit and Eli leaned fractionally closer, and Thrawn focused harder on tuning out the background noise of the station.

“Keeler Min,” Takki continued, “was arrested yesterday by the Imperial Security Bureau. They raided her ship, and guess what they found?”

Eli’s hands were clenched into fists at his side, and the muscles of his back and shoulders were tense. “Not agricultural machinery, I’m guessing,” he said.

That seemed to give Takki pause, but he rallied quickly. “No indeed,” he said, and shivered with excitement. “Hyperdrives, fully assembled, ready to be installed into starfighters. Some were illegally modified for a little extra  _ kick _ .  _ Those  _ weren’t on any of her manifests.”

“So what was she doing with them?” Kit asked.

“Rebels,” Eli said immediately. Thrawn was impressed; he had thought he would have to lead Eli to that conclusion later. “She was taking them to the rebels. There must be a cell somewhere in this sector.”

“Keeler Min, a rebel?” Kit said, incredulous. Her facial glow was increasing. “That’s ridiculous. She’s a trader, just like us. We’ve known her forever.”

“Maybe not just like you, hmm?” Takki said. The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Because ISB seemed very certain that she was indeed supplying a rebel cell with hyperdrives. And she wasn’t the only one.”

Eli jumped in alarm, his head jerking fractionally up and his jaw muscles clenching: it was subtle, and Takki might not have noticed, but Thrawn had made extensive study of Eli’s body language in the short time they had known each other. Eli had undoubtedly made some connection based on his own knowledge of shipping in this part of space. Thrawn would have to tease it out of him later.

“Takki, I have a bad feeling about this,” Kit said, her voice low and alarmed. Her eyes were wide and her shoulders tense. “Unsecured civilian comms are one thing, but spying on ISB? Don’t tell me you just happened to overhear, I know what kinds of encryption systems they use. If they catch you, you’re going down with the rebels, and if they find out you’ve been passing information to us then we could go down too.” Beside her, Eli nodded, but looked hesitant.

“Information should not be contained,” Takki repeated. “I bring you news of a friend only. And now you know not to go shipping hyperdrives in this part of space, eh?” He winked.

“We’re delivering our cargo, and then continuing our route,” Eli said firmly.

“Fine, fine. Come by my office when you’re finished, I’ll get you your Nillsen chain. We said forty, right?”

“We said twenty. Come on, Takki, don’t try that kraytspit with me; I thought we were friends,” Eli said, grinning. 

Takki laughed and headed off, piercings flashing. Eli and Kit turned to each other and began conversing in low voices, effectively shutting him out. Thrawn made no attempt to overhear, instead leaning against the side of the ship and turning the new information over in his mind.

His suspicions had been more than confirmed: Keeler Min was indeed involved with the rebels, deeply enough to risk carrying incriminating cargo through ports monitored by the Empire. She had been captured by the Imperial Security Bureau, presumably the Empire’s central intelligence agency, who would no doubt soon begin extracting whatever information she knew about rebel activities. That was the way of all such agencies. But this would be an uncertain process, and Takki’s information implied that ISB only had knowledge of the traders supplying starfighter parts, not the location of the rebel base or starfighter building facility itself.

That information, if he could find it, would be extremely valuable to the Empire.

He would have to work fast, and he would be hampered by his circumstances. But he had advantages as well, advantages that Empre agents did not have. He could move freely, unconstrained by the need to impress anyone of high status, or in danger of questioning by the Empire’s military -- both contingencies he’d prepared for, and now no longer needed to consider.

Instead, he only needed to convince one person to assist him. 

Thrawn watched as Eli’s mouth tightened in response to something Kit was saying, the way her hands sliced through the air as she emphasized some point she was making. Thrawn was not quite unconstrained, unless he truly wished to abandon these two and make his way on his own. But his Basic, he had realized, still had significant gaps, and his knowledge of the history and current political situation in the Empire had similar ones. Eli threw a glance Thrawn’s way and said something just as emphatic back to Kit. 

Eli was clever--he had deduced Keeler’s Min’s involvement with the rebel cell--and his knowledge of the Empire would be invaluable, complementing Thrawn’s theoretical knowledge with the practical equivalent, filling in the gaps. But Eli would need more than his own natural curiosity to overcome his hesitancy. And Kit’s caution. 

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure?” Kit said again. “I can change my plans, stay on a little longer, if--”

The plan had always been for Eli and Kit to part ways at Mora Miriniaaia, but Eli had been expecting Kit to suggest staying on, ever since they’d failed to find Thrawn a passenger berth elsewhere. 

“No, it’s fine,” Eli said. “Don’t change your plans; I know you want to get back to your own route. More interesting than this run, I bet. Besides, the  _ Oxbird  _ has waited long enough. We were lucky they were even in port.”

Kit inclined her head, but still looked hesitant. “Eli,” she said. “I was teasing about you wanting the mystery before, and that stupid old story, but--” she flicked her gaze to Thrawn. “--this news about Min...and we  _ still _ don’t really know anything about him. I’m not sure I should leave you--and the ship, of course--with, uh,” she searched for the words to describe their passenger and settled on, “someone we just met. I still think he feels like trouble.”

Eli shrugged, trying to fake a nonchalance he didn’t really feel. He  _ did _ want to unravel this mystery--what Thrawn was up to, who he was, what had happened to Keeler Min--and he wanted to do it on his own, without Kit peering over his shoulder. 

“I’m sure Thrawn will get tired of this trading route pretty soon,” he said, although he doubted that. “I can handle myself, cuz. Or maybe I should call you big sis.” He gave her a grin. 

She rolled her eyes. “Only children are the worst,” she said. “If you’d actually had a big sister, maybe you’d listen to reason once in a while.” Kit checked the station’s chrono. “Ugh, I’m going to be late, I’d better go...if you’re really sure--”

“Go,” Eli said. “I have to meet up with Lup Sru anyway. You take care too, okay? Comm me when you get back to the  _ Balancing Act _ .”

“It’ll be about twelve hours. They’re farther out than they would have been if we’d been on time,” Kit said, still hesitating. “Remember what I said about Lup--”

“Kit!” Eli laughed. He waved her off, ignoring her final look of concern. “Thanks for everything,” he said. “Seriously, I know it was just babysitting duty, but I learned a lot from you.” 

“I hope so,” Kit muttered, but she seemed more convinced. She swept him up in a hug and, probably just to be extra annoying, ruffled his hair. “Good luck,  _ kid, _ ” she said, and ran off to catch her ship before it left. 

Eli smoothed down his hair, feeling himself once again blushing as Thrawn came over to join him.  _ She’s only three years older than me, _ he thought. 

“Okay,” Eli said, trying to project some confidence into his voice. “Let’s go.” 

 

* * *

 

Thrawn examined the trading post with interest as Eli led the way. This one was obviously less well-kept and more out-of-the-way than their previous stop had been. Like Beringer Outpost, it had an open-floored, high-ceilinged central plaza, but sections were dark and closed off, and where the Outpost had had small kiosks bustling with traders and their wares, most of those kiosks here were shuttered and empty. 

Eli noticed Thrawn’s appraising gaze. “Yeah,” he said in response to the unspoken judgment, “this place used to be a lot more popular, busier. But a new hyperspace route was discovered a few years ago, and most of the trade in this sector shifted over to a newer station. There are a couple of captains I know here, though. Do you want to see if we can find you a berth, or…”

Eli’s facial heat crept up in temperature and his body language was as hesitant as his speech, his eyes darting away from Thrawn’s as he made the suggestion. Or didn’t make it.

Eli didn’t really want him to leave. An opening. 

“I had a suggestion, in fact,” Thrawn said. “My skills in Basic are somewhat lacking, and I understand that Sy Bisti and the other trade languages with which I am familiar are not common here?”

Eli shook his head. “Not in the Core, anyway. Translator droids don’t even come programmed with Sy Bisti.” 

“I wish eventually to travel closer to the Core. I will need to be fluent in the language,” Thrawn said. “I cannot offer payment for continuing to travel with you, except for an exchange of knowledge. There are trade languages in use in the Ascendancy--my home--that are unknown here. I could teach you one or more of them in exchange for similar lessons in Basic. They would be advantageous to your trading business.” 

“What about your own language? Could you teach me that?” Eli said, and then looked at the floor.

“There are aspects of Cheunh that would be difficult for a human to fully grasp,” Thrawn said. 

“I could do it,” Eli said instantly. His hands curled into fists as if insulted by Thrawn’s comment. 

“Perhaps you could,” Thrawn said, amused. To teach a human his own language would be a challenge. Possibly unwise. But interesting.

An exchange, he thought. Another exchange, another expression of reciprocity between himself and Eli Vanto. A potential weakness, a potential complication, but one that Thrawn was curiously uninterested in examining too closely. 

Eli hesitated. “Learning one of the trade languages would probably be more useful,” he said finally. His shoulder muscles tightened with tension, and he swallowed.

Thrawn thought about Kit’s gestures, her stiff, closed-off body-language, her eyes flicking over him before she’d left. Distrust. She’d clearly urged caution before leaving, and Eli had taken her words seriously now that he and Thrawn were alone. Thrawn would have to do more than offer knowledge to maintain this position.

“A suggestion only,” Thrawn said, putting it to the side for Eli to think about. “What is your goal at this stop?” 

“Oh, it’s kind of silly,” Eli said. “There’s a trader here, Lup Sru. Zie’s a little bit of an eccentric, but zie sometimes picks up valuable stuff. We have a buyer who’s interested in obscure art, things like that. But as Kit warned me--repeatedly--you can’t always trust what zie says about it. Some of it is really just junk. It’s kind of a final test for me. If I come back with something good, I’ll get bragging rights; if I fall for a story, I’ll never hear the end of it.” 

“Does this trader speak Sy Bisti?” Thrawn said, a plan starting to form. 

Eli glanced at him and grinned. “Zie doesn’t,” he said. “Why, do you have something in mind?”

 

* * *

 

Lup Sru’s shop was a riot of color. Eli pushed the door open and was again impressed by the sheer amount of  _ stuff _ that zie managed to fit into the tiny space. Bits of equipment, art, and other unidentifiable objects were packed onto the ceiling-high shelves in precarious piles and towers, meticulously clean and glimmering in the light. The objects were arranged by color, giving the shop a cheery rainbow effect that was only enhanced by Lup’s own presence.

The little blue Ortolan perked up zir floppy ears at their entry, and dropped the cloth with which zie had been polishing a particularly sparkly sculpt.

“Eli Vanto!” zie chirped, giving what Eli had learned was the Ortolan equivalent of a pleased smile - ears up, stubby fingers spread wide near zir face. “A pleasure to see you!” 

“You too, Lup,” Eli said, smiling back. The Ortolan trader was always so cheerful; he could almost forget the  _ testing _ aspect of what he was trying to do by visiting the shop. And Lup’s friendliness was another reason zie was so good at passing off junk as expensive art.

“And a new friend? A new trading partner?” zie said, peering up -- way up, Lup only came up to Eli’s waist -- at Thrawn. “I like their color!” 

Thrawn remained impassive, looking to Eli without changing his expression. He had donned his blanket again, wrapping it artfully around his shoulders and over his head. It should have looked absurd, but Thrawn’s dignity never wavered.

Eli leaned conspiratorially closer to Lup and said, “This is Vis. He’s an assistant to some rich Hutt. He won’t say which one, but his boss is supposedly an art collector.” Eli rolled his eyes. “The boss probably just likes shiny stuff, but Vis actually knows what he’s looking at. He doesn’t speak Basic, though, don’t worry,” Eli added, seeing Lup’s face crumple with a hint of fear. “I’ll translate for him. He  _ insisted _ on coming in person; I guess he doesn’t trust professionals like us to handle it.” 

Lup hummed a little with excited thoughtfulness. “I have plenty of art for him to look through! I’ll choose a few things!” Zie busied zirself with the complicated system of ladders around the shop, pulling down objects seemingly at random. 

“ _ All right,”  _ Eli said, speaking Sy Bisti, “ _ I’ll just pretend to translate all of that for you. Here’s the shop, do you see anything good _ ?”

Thrawn ignored him, walking around and examining objects with feigned -- or at least, it was supposed to be feigned -- hauteur, twitching his blanket out of the way of the shelves with deft movements. 

“Now this piece is very interesting,” Lup said, indicating a flat artwork. Eli had no idea what it was supposed to represent: the colors were garish and clashing, and didn’t seem to connect to each other at all. He probably didn’t see in the right visual spectrum to appreciate it.

It didn’t matter; Thrawn shook his head disdainfully. 

Lup moved on instantly. “This next one is a Talz sculpt. I hardly ever get any Talz pieces in the shop, they’re very rare, and highly collectable!” zie said, flourishing a hand-sized piece of crumpled metal that shimmered with an iridescent sheen. “The Talz are very secretive about their art, and almost never sell their pieces off-world. It’s the perfect piece for a discerning collector!” Eli leaned closer. He wasn’t sure what the sculpt was worth, but it certainly  _ looked _ expensive and well-made. 

“ _ The Talz never make anything artistic out of metal,”  _ Thrawn said, maintaining his air of disdainful skepticism and waving a hand at Eli. “ _ This is, in reality, a part of a Vagaari navigation console, and worthless. _ ” 

“Not what he’s looking for,” Eli “translated,” trying not to laugh as Lup’s ears pulled themselves over zir face in frustration. He might have fallen for that one -- Thrawn clearly knew what he was talking about, just as he’d said. 

“ _ On the third shelf from the top, behind Lup, _ ” Thrawn said. “ _ There is a deactivated droid. Do you see it _ ?” 

Eli looked. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem much like a droid to him, more like a pile of scrap metal. “ _ That?”  _ he said, pointing. 

“ _ It is a type of archaic droid from the Clone War, _ ” Thrawn said. “ _ It is by far the most valuable item in this shop. _ ”

Eli raised his eyebrows at Thrawn. Lup was following the conversation with interest, zir ears up, beady black eyes flicking back and forth between Thrawn and Eli. 

“He wants to know the story behind that piece, there,” Eli said, pointing at the droid. 

“Coruscanti experimentalism,” said Lup immediately. “Sold to me by the daughter of a  _ very  _ high-ranking Coruscant family, you understand if I can’t give you details. A stunning example of early-Empire exploration of form and material, although if you ask me it could use a little more color! To you, one hundred credits.” 

“ _ It is worth many times that.” _ Thrawn said. “ _ For the metal alone. The shell is doonium.” _

Eli pretended to consider. Droid construction wasn’t something he knew well, but the price of doonium had skyrocketed recently. If it contained even a small amount of the metal, one hundred credits was nothing compared to what the parts could sell for. “Seventy-five,” he offered, trying not to betray his excitement. 

Lup gave a sad-sounding hum. “Eli Vanto, you are a friend, but not that much of a friend. One hundred. It is art, even if it is not the most  _ beautiful _ art.” 

Eli “translated” again and Thrawn gave a sigh of mock-frustration and inclined his head. 

“One hundred is acceptable,” Eli said. “His boss will apparently love it.” 

Lup chirruped zir agreement, and, deal done and droid packed onto a hoverdolly behind them, they set off back to the ship. 

Eli couldn’t stop grinning as they made their way back through the maze of darkened and empty kiosks to the central plaza. “That was great. Lup had no idea what to make of you,” he said. “Kit’s going to be furious. Last time she came through here, she got stuck with some worthless ship part, too, just like you sa--” 

Thrawn abruptly shoved him to the side, and he tripped and fell over the low wall that separated one of the kiosks from the corridor. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

Thrawn had suspected they were being followed since they had arrived at the trading post, and after departing from the Ortolan’s shop -- which had actually contained some interesting pieces of art among the junk; he would have liked to stay longer -- his suspicions were immediately confirmed. 

Two humans, he thought, as Eli recounted the transaction, flushed with triumph. Thrawn could hear their tread on the metal flooring, a practiced, predatory step that human hearing wouldn’t pick up. 

Thrawn made the decision in an instant. Eli’s combat capabilities were an unknown quantity, and were likely to hinder rather than help. Thrawn would handle this alone.

He put his hand on Eli’s shoulder and pushed him out of the way, then spun to face their attackers. 

They were on him immediately, one rushing him and trying to knock him to the floor. The other went for the kiosk where Eli was sprawled. Thrawn kicked out, connecting solidly with the attacker’s knee and sending him to the ground. 

Thrawn’s assailant grabbed his arm and drove an elbow into his side, knocking the breath from his lungs, and --

There was a sharp crack and a sizzle as a blaster bolt singed the floor next to them. All three of them -- Thrawn and the two attackers -- looked up. 

Eli stood behind the low wall, bleeding from a small cut on his temple and training a holdout blaster on the assailants. 

His hands on the weapon shook almost imperceptibly, but his voice was steady.

“What do you want?” Eli demanded.

“For you to stop poking around in matters that don’t concern you,” the one on the ground said -- a human man. Younger than Eli, with paler skin and hair. “We know you and your spy friend here got Min arrested.”

Eli’s brow furrowed, and he shot a look at Thrawn. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “Min got arrested? Arrested for what?” 

“ _ Tell them I don’t speak Basic,”  _ Thrawn said, still in Sy Bisti.

The human holding his arms, a tall, stocky woman with short dark hair, shook him. “Shut up,” she growled. “What’s he saying? Who is he?” she asked Eli. 

The two humans seemed uncertain, now. They hadn’t planned for this interaction, hadn’t seemed to have a plan at all. Neither was taking the lead, both were waiting for the other to speak. 

Thrawn was more out of breath than he should be. The lingering effects of his sickness and failure were a frustration and and a hindrance. He should have been able to overcome two humans easily. 

“He’s just a passenger,” Eli said. “He doesn’t even speak Basic, he has no idea what’s going on. I think you’ve got the wrong people. So let him go and get out of here, and I won’t report this. Got it?  _ I want an explanation. _ ” Eli added in Sy Bisti, looking directly at Thrawn. “ _ If we can get out of this. _ ” 

The two attackers exchanged an uneasy glance. 

“Well, let this be a lesson,” said the woman holding Thrawn, clearly trying to inject some confidence into her voice. “Mind your own business and keep out of ours, all right?” 

She shoved Thrawn onto the ground and raised her hands above her head, looking at Eli. He still held the blaster trained on them. 

They didn’t even have  _ weapons _ , Thrawn thought. A poorly-thought out ambush indeed. 

“We’ll be watching,” the man said, as he got to his feet and motioned to his partner. The two of them ran off into the darkened, abandoned part of the trading post. 

Eli holstered the blaster -- it was a small model, Thrawn noted, and it looked new. Eli’s earlier elation was gone, replaced by tension and frustration. 

Not, interestingly, fear. 

“Let’s get out of here,” he said tightly, extending a hand to help Thrawn up. “Now.”

 

* * *

 

Thrawn found Eli in the medical bay. Once they’d returned to the ship without incident, Eli had taken himself to the cockpit, tersely ordering Thrawn to make sure the derelict droid was stowed properly before they launched. Thrawn had taken his time with the task, waiting until they were in hyperspace before climbing up from the storage bay to the crew quarters.

Now, Eli stood in the medbay, combing through the small cabinets with hands that still shook slightly.

“May I help?” Thrawn asked, pausing a few feet away.

“I think I took more damage from you than from those two nerf-herders, so yeah, you can patch me up,” Eli said. He handed Thrawn a small box of bacta-infused bandages and another of antibacterial wipes.

Eli seemed to expect Thrawn to begin tending his injuries right there, but instead Thrawn guided him to the medbay cot and sat them both down. In the infrared, the cut on Eli’s temple glowed slightly hotter than the surrounding skin, indicative of inflammation if not outright infection. 

Thrawn removed one of the antibacterial wipes from its sterile packaging and drew it gently across the cut, cleaning and cooling it simultaneously. Eli’s facial muscles tensed in shock at the sensation, then relaxed.

The rest of him, however, was still tightly wound. He leaned away before Thrawn could apply the bandage, putting space between them.

“Okay,” Eli said. “What the  _ kriff  _ happened out there?”

“I believe we were the victims of mistaken identity,” Thrawn said.

“No.” Eli shook his head. “No, don’t give me that. Those two were rebels, and they knew we had talked to Min at the Beri. There’s no way that was coincidence.” His hands tightened on his knees, crumpling his trousers.

Thrawn remained silent. Extracting information from Kit required direct questioning, but Eli would work the logic out for himself, given space.

“They must have seen us talking to Min,” Eli said. “And then Min gets arrested, and they knew we were the last ones to talk to her. So they followed us here? To do what, exactly?”

“I doubt they had any clear idea,” Thrawn said; Eli snorted in agreement. “But you forget the Imperial soldiers we saw at Beringer Outpost.”

“So the Empire already knew about Min, and we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Eli said. His shoulders dropped.

“You are disappointed,” Thrawn observed.

“I wouldn’t say disappointed,” Eli said. “I guess I just thought, if we were going to run into rebels, that they’d be...better at it.”

Thrawn paused. That was not the response he had expected: although he had seen no fear in Eli’s voice and body language while he had faced down the rebels, Eli had no formal combat training. But, Thrawn recalled, Eli had expressed a former interest in joining the Imperial Navy, although he had abandoned that goal.

Openings, opportunities…

“Earlier, when we were speaking with Takki, you stated that Min must have been taking the hyperdrives to a rebel cell in this sector,” Thrawn said. “Why this sector? Why could she not have been taking them elsewhere?”

Eli gave him an odd look, clearly viewing the question as a change of subject: it was not. “Well, from the way they were crated and stored on her ship. They were pretty clearly being stowed for short-range transport, not long-haul.”

“And Min’s ship is not equipped with fuel storage necessary for voyages beyond the local systems.”

“Yeah, it didn’t look like it,” Eli confirmed. “But I also realized that we know what the rebels are disguising the hyperdrives as. Remember I told you that I had noticed a lot of agricultural machinery on the Beringer Outpost import forms lately? They’re about the same size and density as hyperdrives, so you’d ship and store them similarly.”

“A wise choice, then,” Thrawn said.

“Yeah, it’s pretty smart, if they weren’t supposedly shipping them to non-ag planets, like you said.” Eli’s voice was casual and matter-of-fact. He clearly did not realize that many people would not have been able to follow Thrawn’s chain of logic at all.

Even if Eli could not yet see the patterns that leapt out to Thrawn, he had knowledge that Thrawn did not, skills that Thrawn had not learned. It was a pleasure, to be so complemented.

“But I also realized,” Eli continued, startling Thrawn out of his contemplation, “Those shipments are public record, because they’re trying to disguise them as legitimate trade instead of just smuggling.” His voice sped up in excitement. “I know the hyperspaces lanes in this region pretty well, and what the normal shipping patterns look like. There’s a decent chance, based on all that data, that I could figure out where the hyperdrives are being taken.”

“The destinations entered into the public shipment records would likely be inaccurate,” Thrawn said. A test.

Eli’s shoulders slumped again. “I didn’t think of that.”

“But that is not insurmountable,” Thrawn reassured him. “Think. The rebels are unlikely to deviate much from their recorded trajectories. To do otherwise might invite unwanted investigation.”

“So...they won’t go to the places they say they will, but their actual destinations won’t be too far off?” Eli said slowly. “Which means the base would be somewhere in this sector, on one of the worlds near the ones they’re using on the official shipping manifest. Otherwise, their fuel reserves wouldn’t match up right.” 

“Very perceptive, Eli,” Thrawn said.

Eli’s face flushed with heat--it really was an intriguing reaction--and his facial muscles twitched, pulling his mouth into a brief but genuine smile. “With those constraints, there are only three, maybe four, places it could be. Kobslij’s moon, Ceetosis, the station at Gaar, and maybe somewhere in the Kibakya asteroid belt. Unless I’m missing something huge,” he said. “It’s pretty obvious once you point it out.”

Thrawn inclined his head. Anyone could agree with observations once they were made clear. Few could see the implications.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter much,” Eli said, flush fading from his cheeks. “If there’s a rebel cell in this sector, I don’t really want to know. Like Kit said, that could get me into a lot of trouble with the Empire. I don’t want to bring that down on my family.”

Here was the sticking point, the major obstacle: Eli’s caution, his unwillingness to step outside the boundaries he’d imposed on himself. His natural curiosity could take him only so far.

The spark in Eli’s voice when he glimpsed the patterns Thrawn wove before him. His pleasure when Thrawn complimented his insight. His disappointment at the anticlimax of their interaction with the rebels, and his hands shaking on the blaster grip.

Not with fear, not with tension.

_ Excitement _ .

Thrawn had him now.

“There is another option,” Thrawn said, and Eli’s chin lifted with interest. “If the Empire found out that you were hiding information about the rebels’ location from them-”

“I’m not  _ hiding- _ ” Eli interrupted.

“They will not see it that way, as you know. If the Empire found out on their own, there would indeed be severe consequences for you and for your family. But think. The Empire’s arrest of Keeler Min alone indicates that they suspect rebels are active in this sector, but have no further information.”

“Otherwise they would have captured the entire cell, and we’d have heard about that,” Eli said slowly. “So, they’re hoping she’ll reveal the location under interrogation?” He swallowed hard, clearly uncomfortable with the thought.

“That is my assessment,” Thrawn said. “But that gives us information that the Empire does not have, information that could be very valuable to them, do you see?”

“We figured it out before they did,” Eli said. “We can sell them that information, maybe get some shipping contracts for the company in return. That would be a huge advantage for my family.”

“For your family, yes, but for you in particular,” Thrawn said. The next moments would be precarious, balancing Eli’s urge towards adventure with the mental shackles he placed on himself. But Eli was excited, his hands twitching as though he could barely keep them still and his breath coming quick.

Thrawn needed to keep him excited.

“We have another advantage they do not, however: your ship and occupation,” Thrawn said. “We can collect information unobtrusively, in the course of your trading duties.Our skills, together, are more than sufficient for us to definitively locate the rebel cell, perhaps even gather evidence of its existence, and to do so before the Empire. Especially now that you have narrowed the location down to only a few possibilities.”

“And take it to the Empire when we’re sure,” Eli said. “Couldn’t this be dangerous?” He didn’t look worried, though; if anything, the prospect of danger seemed to appeal.

“Everything worthwhile is,” Thrawn said.

Eli tensed, his whole body, and his hand moved convulsively to grip Thrawn’s forearm, hot and tight.

Somehow, without Thrawn noticing, they had drawn close again, close enough that the astringent smell of the antibiotic ointment filled Thrawn’s nose, and the shaky breath Eli exhaled brushed across his mouth like a kiss.

Like a kiss.

Thrawn lifted his hand, drew his thumb across Eli’s cheekbone, just under the cut, and let his eyes drift closed.

“What skills?” Eli asked.

Thrawn’s eyes flew open. Eli’s hand was still clenched around Thrawn’s forearm, his face inches from Thrawn’s and his mouth open as though he couldn’t believe he was still talking. His eyes, however, were focused, concentrated, not dazed at all.

Thrawn could not, unfortunately, say the same for himself. “What do you mean?” he asked, a feeble effort to buy a moment of time.

“You said  _ our skills together _ would be enough to find evidence of the base’s location in this sector,” Eli said. “I know what I can offer, but I still don’t really know anything about you.” He leaned back, took his hand from Thrawn’s arm.

“I’ve told you everything relevant about me,” Thrawn said. “I am a former military commander. My people exiled me following a political disagreement. You may assume that I have experience locating hidden enemies that will generalize to our current situation.”

Eli looked away, flush again hot on his cheeks. “I think that’s part of the truth. Or maybe it’s the truth that you want me to believe. I’m just a trader, all right,” he said, voice shaking almost imperceptibly, “I know I don’t have the experience you do, but some of the things you’ve told me don’t make sense, and I’m not getting further involved with you unless you give me more.”

“What will you do if I choose not to tell?” Thrawn asked.

Eli sighed. “I’ll take you to the nearest station with enough traffic and drop you off, help you find a berth if you want. No more delays, no more misdirection-” he smiled a little; of course he had realized that Thrawn had never intended to find a different ship “-we part ways, and good luck to you.”

The thought was remarkably distressing, if Thrawn was honest, more than the prospect of simply surrendering an advantageous position. No: the loss of Eli’s ship, hospitality, and maneuverability would be a blow, but a surmountable one.

The loss of Eli’s companionship, his insight, and the attraction that Thrawn suspected was reciprocated would be...devastating.  _ That _ insight was more than surprising. Attraction, companionship: Thrawn had not factored these into any of his plans for years. Had not thought to encounter them ever again. 

Perhaps it was weakness, but Thrawn found that they were indeed factors he wished to consider. 

Yet Thrawn’s urge towards secrecy was strong and deeply ingrained. After all, information conferred power. With few advantages in his current situation in the Empire, Thrawn would need to carefully control who held power over him. And Eli held power enough over Thrawn already.

In the Ascendency, Thrawn’s choice would be obvious, his duty unambiguous: his continued association with Eli Vanto was only valuable if it furthered his goals. 

_ But are you certain you know what your goals are? _ a voice whispered.

“The truth,” Thrawn said, testing out the idea. He did not, he thought, have to give Eli the  _ entire _ truth, only enough of it to quell Eli’s suspicions.

“Please.” Eli’s voice was quiet, his face relaxed, and that decided him.

“Everything I have told you about myself is true,” Thrawn said. Eli exhaled forcefully and moved as if to get up from the cot. Thrawn held up a hand to stop him. “But you are correct,” he continued. “I have told you only a simple truth, one that fit my needs at the time. The complete story is considerably more complicated.”

“Tell me.”

Thrawn shifted on the cot to rest his back against the bulkhead, and after a moment Eli moved to sit beside him, not quite touching. “I spoke accurately when I told you that my exile was precipitated by a disagreement with our military leaders, and when I described the actions I had taken. For the Chiss, to make pre-emptive strikes against an enemy is unconscionable, is taboo. I saw things differently. My tactics were tolerated for some time, because our leaders were pleased with my results, but eventually…”

“They threw you out,” Eli said.

“Yes. And no.”

Eli jerked in surprise next to him, and when Thrawn turned his head Eli was frowning. 

“What does that mean?” Eli asked.

“I am exiled in truth,” Thrawn said. The admission, a simple statement of fact, lay oddly heavy on his tongue. “I may not return to the Chiss Ascendency. But neither have they cut the cord entirely. Our leaders are particularly interested in the Empire: its political organization and military capacities. They saw the advantage in embedding a former military leader where I could be positioned to obtain such information. Anything that may be useful to the Chiss, anything that may strengthen our defense or advantage our fleet, I am charged to report.”

“So you  _ are  _ a spy,” Eli said, voice rising in anger. “You’ve been using me.” His body tensed, like he was about to leap off the cot, and Thrawn reached out instinctively to take him by the shoulders.

“No,” Thrawn said.

“Yes,” Eli replied. He still sat at Thrawn’s side, but his hands were balled into fists and he leaned forward as though looking for a fight. “This is why you’re so eager to find the rebel base and bring it to the Empire, isn’t it? So you can get information from  _ them  _ at the same time. And you’ve been using me and my ship to get yourself closer.”

“No,” Thrawn said again. “No. There is more I must tell you.”

Eli paused for a long moment, then sat back against the wall. He still held energy coiled in his body, ready to spring away, but at least he was still listening.

“Fine,” Eli said. “Make it good.”

Thrawn hesitated, aware that the longer he delayed the greater the likelihood of Eli giving up and leaving. Still, it was uncharacteristically difficult to make himself speak.

“I never intended to remain on my exile world,” he finally said. “That was never the plan. Nor did I plan to escape using just any smuggler or trader passing by.”

“Thanks,” Eli said, sulky, and Thrawn laughed quietly.

“Come now,” he said, and Eli’s mouth twitched. “No, I aimed at a loftier target. My goal was to attract the attention of an Imperial Navy ship, and gain an audience with Imperial command by demonstrating my tactical skills.”

“The same skills that got you tossed out of the Chiss navy?”

Thrawn inclined his head, acknowledging the hit. “The very same. I had made two unsuccessful attempts and was about to embark on a third when an unexpected storm nearly destroyed my communication equipment and most of my supplies.” 

For a moment he was back on that planet, surveying the twisted scraps of his comm unit and the crumbled, rotting, mess of his food stores, the ground soggy beneath his feet and the native avians shrieking in the trees.

It had not seemed such a mistake. Not then.

“Much of the organic matter on the planet was, I learned, at least mildly poisonous to Chiss biology, and some of it was nearly deadly. With my systems weakened, I could no longer resist the disease that took me. I managed to repair my comm unit enough to send out an all-purpose distress call before succumbing.”

The calm recitation of facts did not do justice to the shivering horror of those weeks alone on the planet, his supply of edible food dwindling, his world shrinking to the forest, then the clearing, then his hut, as his body weakened further and further. Trying to find food that wouldn’t poison him, trying to repair his comm to send a distress call first to the Ascendency, then to anyone listening, trying to ignore the creeping needles of fever that pricked his spine.

And looming larger than the physical discomfort: the nauseating knowledge of his utter failure.

“By the time you and Kit responded to my signal, the Imperial vessel I had hoped to attract had long since left the sector.”

Eli’s face and shoulders had relaxed somewhat, but he didn’t look satisfied. “Okay, you made some mistakes. You intended to get on board a navy vessel, not just whatever you could find.” He waved his hand. “That doesn’t change what I’m saying.”

“It does,” Thrawn said. “Once I had achieved an audience with the Imperial Navy, my goal was never espionage, or sabotage. Listen.” He paused again, weighing how much he could safely disclose.

“You understand, there is only so much I can tell you,” he finally said. “You have said that you do not wish to bring the Empire’s punitive might down upon your family. I face a similar agony, but on behalf of my entire people, and I may not imperil their safety to assuage your concerns.”

“I can understand that, I guess,” Eli said.

“I’m glad. What I may tell you...yes, I hoped that in traveling together I could engineer an opportunity to make contact with the Empire, and yes, I hoped to gain information. But I was permitted to offer information in exchange. Not about my people, but we have other knowledge that would be of interest to the Empire. Sharing it would bring no danger.” 

Thrawn thought of the true danger, the danger he carefully did not mention, and his hands clenched in his lap. “The Chiss Ascendency is stronger with strong neighbors. My goal was not merely to collect and provide information, but to play an active role in strengthening the Empire. Thus are my people strengthened as well.”

It wasn’t the whole truth, and only partly a lie. It would have to be enough; there was no more he could tell.

Eli took his hand.

Eli took his hand, pried it open, and wove their fingers together, tight enough that Thrawn felt Eli’s pulse jumping like a live thing between their palms. The touch of Eli’s hand was almost too hot to bear-- a trick of his mind, Thrawn knew, but an unsettlingly vivid one.

“I’m still mad,” Eli said.

“Are you?” Thrawn asked.

“Yes, I am,” Eli said firmly. He turned to face Thrawn on the cot, their hands still linked between them. His cheeks burned. “I wish you had just told me.”

Thrawn drew breath to reply, but Eli seemed to anticipate it, putting his free hand on Thrawn’s cheek and covering Thrawn’s mouth with his thumb.

“Don’t say it, okay?” Eli said. “I know you couldn’t have. I know you’re protecting your people. I know this wasn’t what you wanted.” 

He stroked Thrawn’s cheek gingerly, like he wasn’t quite sure of the reaction he’d get, like he wasn’t quite sure it would be welcome.

Thrawn leaned into Eli’s hand, just long enough to see Eli’s eyes widen and a fresh glow of heat sweep over his cheeks, then lifted his own free hand to brush across Eli’s face.  _ Reciprocal. _

Eli kissed him, sliding his hand up into Thrawn’s hair and pulling his head down, kissed him until their breaths came heavy and gasping, kissed him deep and slow, and if Thrawn had thought Eli’s hands had been hot they were nothing compared to Eli’s mouth, nothing compared to Eli’s body dragged close, nothing compared to the heat that unfurled deep inside Thrawn and said  _ yes, yes, yes _ .

He took his hands from Eli’s face and wrapped his arms around Eli’s shoulders, pushing forward, chasing that heat.

Too far, it turned out: the cot wobbled under them and Eli jerked back in surprise, lost his balance, and slid off the edge. He came to rest on the floor, one leg bent under him and the other thrown out to the side, his hair messy from Thrawn’s hands and his mouth open in shock.

“I forgot that thing is on wheels,” Eli said, shaking his head. He held out a hand. “I’m okay, help me up.”

Thrawn swung his legs over the side of the cot, bracing them on the floor, and pulled Eli to his feet. Eli kept hold of his hand.

“We’ll be at the restocking depot in about twelve hours,” Eli finally said, after a long moment of gazing at Thrawn.

“Yes,” Thrawn said.

Eli was fighting it, that was clear, but his eyes slipped down Thrawn’s face to linger on his mouth. “I need to comm ahead to let them know to get our supplies ready,” Eli said.

“You should.” Thrawn tugged Eli’s hand, the smallest amount, and Eli stepped obligingly between Thrawn’s legs.

“It’s two weeks until my next run. I was going to take us back to Lysatra, but if we’re looking for the rebels we should pick up extra rations and probably top up our fuel.” Eli returned his hand to Thrawn’s hair, so much longer than it had been the first time they touched. 

“A wise plan of action,” Thrawn murmured, and leaned up for a kiss. 

Eli made a soft sound of happiness, low and quick, and made it again when Thrawn drew his thumbs down the sides of Eli’s neck. 

“We have an accord, then?” Thrawn asked when they pulled away.

“Gods help me, I think we do,” Eli said. “I’m in trouble.” He gave Thrawn a final light kiss, then stepped back. “I really do have to send that comm,” he said regretfully.

“Go,” Thrawn said. “We will set a detailed course shortly. And Eli.” 

He stopped, unsure how to put his thought into words, unsure how to plumb the depth of his feelings.

Uncertain always now, since his plans had gone so catastrophically wrong.

“I am glad to have you with me,” Thrawn said.

Eli smiled at him and disappeared towards the bridge.

Thrawn sat on the cot, the box of bandages lying discarded beside him, and wondered what he was doing.

Using Eli, manipulating him-- because Thrawn could not deny his actions-- was one thing. Thrawn knew that he manipulated people and felt no shame for it: he had goals, and he had tools, and he used one to achieve the other. Bringing Eli into his plans, making plans that depended on Eli for success, was unusual but not unexpected, especially given the circumstances of their meeting.

To find a partner where he had expected solitude, a comrade where he had planned only for subordinates...that truly was unexpected. And it was a relief, the release of a burden he had long forgotten, to be even partially honest with someone, to share his plans and fears.

To have a friend.

But that wasn’t all Eli was.

Chiss courtship was long and subtle, a dance carried out in quiet moments and small gestures, entirely personal and entirely private. The most important element was reciprocity: the demonstration of service between participants. A touch for a touch, a gift for a gift, an act for an act, mirrored and repeated.

Thrawn had not thought it mattered to him, or ever would.

He didn’t have many memories of his first days aboard Eli’s ship, only knowledge of pain endured and weakness recovered from. Unable to plan, barely able to comprehend what was happening, delirious with fever and starvation, he had acted on instinct.

Eli’s hands in his hair had triggered something in Thrawn’s dying brain, some deeply-learned cultural pattern, and he had responded as though Eli had made an overture of courtship.  _ A bond, reciprocal. _

And now he couldn’t stop. He made up Eli’s new bunk after Eli had sacrificed his own; he tended Eli’s wounds, as Eli had tended his. He exchanged information with Eli-- not freely, true, but somewhat willingly. He mirrored Eli’s gestures, their hands on each other’s faces.

Eli kissed him; he kissed Eli back.

It was a complication. But one that had brought only good. And to have Eli fully on his side, with few secrets remaining between them and their goals largely aligned, could only be a strength.

It would serve, for now. He was still heading forward, still heading towards his goal, the obstacles that had nearly defeated him further and further in the past.

He picked up the box of bandages and tucked it back into the cabinet.

 

* * *

 

_ An accord, _ Eli thought, making his way to the comm on the bridge.  _ Yeah, that’s one word for it. _

What was he doing? None of this was a good idea. None of this was safe. Getting involved with the unrest in the Empire, helping a self-confessed spy…

Kissing someone who had just admitted to using him. 

Eli shut his eyes as he felt another blush spread over his face. He should care more about that. About Thrawn’s true motivation. But he’d kissed Eli back. Eli had seen a flash of uncertainty on Thrawn’s face, had seen disappointment when he’d pulled away.

_ I am glad to have you with me. _ That didn’t seem like a lie. 

Attraction was part of this, had been part of it since Thrawn had leaned against him in the medbay, seeking comfort. But there was more to it than that. It was like a compulsion, this desire to get closer to Thrawn, to know what was going on beyond that placid expression, that keen gaze.

To figure him out.

Well, Eli was in too deep to back out now, whether it was a good idea or not.

He’d given the expected reasoning when he’d proposed the idea of joining the Imperial Navy: he was doing the work of a supply officer already, he might as well do it in service to the Empire and get the rewards. Better pay, higher status, benefits for the family business--like increased contact with the Core Worlds. 

What he’d really wanted, and hadn’t been able to admit, even to himself, was adventure. 

When he’d decided not to go to the Academy at Myomar, he’d resigned himself to the life he was used to: the same cargo routes, the same people, the same goals. This was different. Dangerous. And definitely exciting. Secretly, he was glad.

If he had joined the Navy, Thrawn would have died on that planet. And Eli would be at Myomar, never having met him. 

_ Risk is everywhere, _ Thrawn had said. Eli thought he was starting to understand what that meant.

He shook his head and commed the restocking depo. 

 

* * *

 

“And it was said that Tommas was granted a boon, for his service to the Chiss,” Eli said, his voice low. He spoke Basic, at Thrawn’s request. His hands described an arc in the air before him, and he seemed to be looking into the distance, as though seeing the events of the story. “Although, given what happened, some called it a curse. They gave him a glimpse of the future, but that was all he would say. He told none what was revealed to him. When he returned to the village, though, his hair was completely white. And that is the tale.” Eli looked at Thrawn. “Did you get any of that?” he said. “I’m really not the best storyteller--”   
  
“Yes,” Thrawn said, speaking Basic. “And you do have skill. I understood, but--” He reached for the word in Basic. “I understand more than I speak.”

They had spent the previous night aboard the ship, not kissing, not touching, enjoying the change in tension between them, and had docked at the restocking depot that morning. Thrawn had hung back as Eli, happy and self-assured, had ordered and loaded their supplies for their two-week sojourn.

They had passed the remainder of the day...wandering. They had watched the various ships dock, Eli explaining their cargo capacities and likely shipments, Thrawn asking questions and building up a picture for himself of traffic in this sector. It was unexpectedly pleasant: the flow of information between them, the call and response of unconstrained conversation.

And when Eli had pulled him into a shadowed alcove and given him a kiss that threatened to scorch his mouth--

Well, that had been informative, too.   
  
“You seem amused,” Eli said.

They sat on Thrawn’s bunk, deep in ship’s night, barely touching, though it seemed inevitable that they would. Thrawn didn’t know what human courtship involved, but for the Chiss it would be his turn to initiate any further physical contact. 

  
“Amused?” Thrawn said, testing the word.    
  
“Entertained,” Eli said, “You found the story...funny?”    
  
“Interesting,” Thrawn said. “The way the story goes, it is...the same always?” Frustrated, he switched to Sy Bisti. “Did you memorize the story? Do all who tell it use the same words?”   
  
As Thrawn had suggested to Eli, they had been working on Thrawn’s spoken Basic. Thrawn had proposed this exchange as a distraction while he considered what to do next, but there was no way to distract himself from Eli’s presence on the tiny ship, or from the memory of Eli’s mouth on his.     
  
Eli considered. “Every teller phrases it a little differently. But it’s mostly the same, I guess,” he said, continuing in Basic. “Saying ‘and that is the tale’ is like saying ‘the end’ or ‘they lived happily ever after,’ or something. Just tradition. Most children’s stories end like that.” He paused. “Is there any truth to the myths?” he asked. “I mean, not the magic, that’s obviously not true, but—any other part of them?”    
  
The part about the Chiss having knowledge of the future, in the last story Eli had told, was oddly close to one of his people’s most heavily guarded secrets. That was the only aspect of the myths that had given Thrawn pause. Otherwise--   
  
Thrawn shook his head. “Most are tales I have heard before from other cultures, with the Chiss substituted for some other mythical being. But one may learn much about a person from the stories they choose to tell.”

  
“Not a lot of people tell these stories,” Eli said. “Kit thinks they’re pointless.”

“Kit isn’t here.”

“True enough,” Eli said, before frowning slightly. “She should have checked in by now, though. I can comm her when we’re done here. Anyway,” he continued, “those are almost all the Chiss stories I know. You wanted to hear them, so--”  
  
“Almost all?” Thrawn said.   
  
He watched Eli’s facial glow increase. “A few of them are…sillier,” Eli muttered. “I’ll tell those some other time.”

  
Thrawn reached up and put a hand on the side of Eli’s face. His skin was so warm. Not as hot as his mouth had been on Thrawn’s, but a distinct reminder of it. “This reaction is… _ kashengeze _ .”   
  
“Intriguing,” Eli translated, leaning into Thrawn’s touch, lifting his own hand up to cover Thrawn’s. “I’d call it embarrassing. And you owe me a story in return.”   
  
Reciprocity, exchange. He did owe Eli something in return for his openness. “I am not a storyteller. But I have been remiss,” Thrawn said, drawing his hand down Eli’s cheek, letting his fingers drift across Eli’s neck. “I have yet to tell you my full name.”    
  
“I think you tried to at first,” Eli said, shivering and leaning closer. They had fallen back into Sy Bisti, language lessons forgotten. “I don’t remember what you said.”    
  
“Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” Thrawn said.

His full name felt strange on his own lips. Eli’s eyes dropped to his mouth as he said it. And they were wrapped around each other entirely now, faces inches apart. 

“Mitth’—“ Eli started, then inclined his head at Thrawn. 

“Mitth’raw’nuruodo.” 

“Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” Eli repeated. His eyes were dark, framed by lashes even darker than his hair. “How did I do?"

“Very close,” Thrawn said, surprised. Eli clearly had an ear for languages. Perhaps he would be able to learn Cheunh after all. 

“Should I…use that name instead?” Eli said, drawing back a bit. 

“Thrawn is my core name. Its use is reserved for blood family. And for friends,” Thrawn said. “Or…”

He pulled Eli closer, gripping his shoulders like he had in the medbay, and kissed him. Eli relaxed under Thrawn’s hands, his body hot through his clothes, and then they were lying flat on the bunk, side-by-side. Thrawn buried his hands in Eli’s hair and Eli gasped into his mouth. 

Touch. Thrawn marveled at it as Eli traced the lines of his face, his collarbones, as Eli’s hands clenched in Thrawn’s shirt. When was the last time anyone had touched him with focus, with care, with  _ desire _ ? When was the last time he had responded in kind? 

“At least this bed’s bolted to the wall,” Eli murmured into his ear, then nipped at the skin just below it. Thrawn turned his head to see Eli’s half-smile, a little uncertain still, and that same glow of heat spreading over Eli’s face.  _ Intrigued  _ did not begin to describe Thrawn’s reaction. 

Desire drove the thoughts from his mind, quieted the part of him that planned and strove and analyzed. He forgot the uncertainty and hesitation caused by his failure, lost it all in the heat of Eli’s skin pressed against his own, in Eli’s sharp intake of breath as Thrawn rolled them over and pinned him. 

Then Eli stopped kissing him, pushed him away with one hand pressed to Thrawn’s chest.

“Do you hear that?” Eli asked. His eyes were wide, his hair tangled, his lips swollen.

Thrawn didn’t hear anything but his own pulse pounding in his ears. He shook his head, words abandoning him entirely. And then he did hear it--a low, ringing tone over the ship’s internal comm system. 

“That’s the proximity alarm,” Eli said slowly. “But…”

The entire ship jerked, a sensation that was disturbingly familiar to Thrawn. 

Eli grabbed Thrawn’s shoulders to hold them both steady on the bunk. “What was  _ that _ ?” he said. “If Takki cheated me on that Nillsen chain and that was our stabilizers giving out again, I’ll--”

“No,” Thrawn said. “That is the tractor beam of a larger vessel.” 

They were both up and heading toward the ship’s tiny bridge without another word or look exchanged. From the forward viewport, the only viewscreen on the ship, they could see the bulk of the ship that had ensnared them. 

“That’s an Imperial ship,” Eli said. “I guess we’ll be giving them what we have a little sooner than we thought?”

It was huge from the vantage point of a two-person freighter, with visible weapons, but not as large or as well-equipped as a Chiss cruiser. Thrawn cursed his lack of specific knowledge of the Empire’s fleet or the deployment of its ships. If they had been in Ascendancy space, he would have felt confident saying that this ship was likely the equivalent of a routine patrol vessel. 

Similar to the one he’d wanted to attract to his exile world, in fact. 

This was an opportunity, then. Unexpected, but perhaps useful. He did have valuable information now, although it wasn’t as concrete as he would have preferred it to be. But of course, he also held a name to use in conversation, and a story that would perhaps gain him entry to another level of power. 

Eli was seating himself at the comm, face set in preparation to hail the other ship. He grinned at Thrawn. “This is kind of convenient, isn’t it? We didn’t even have to get their attention first.” 

Eli was still a little flushed and dazed-looking from their exertions, and Thrawn corrected his earlier thought:  _ they _ had valuable information. He and Eli would each benefit from this encounter, and then, very likely, they would go their separate ways, as it should be. 

This interruption was for the best, reminding him of his true purpose, setting him back on course. 

Courtship was not-- _ could _ not--be meant for Thrawn.

 


	6. Chapter 6

The Imperial officer on the other side of the comm connection looked bored and annoyed. “Is this the trading vessel _Caran’s Gift_ , property of Vanto Shipping, out of Atkal, Lysatra?”

Her accent was pure, hard Coruscanti.

“Yes,” Eli said.

She waited.

Eli realized what she was waiting for. “Yes, _ma’am_ ,” he corrected.

The officer rolled her eyes. “Not that I need any proof beyond that hideous accent, but state your ID beacon code for verification.”

Eli felt his face heat with anger. “It’s two-one-seven-zero-six-alpha. Ma’am.”  

It had been so long since he’d interacted with a Core Worlder, he’d forgotten what they were like. This woman clearly hated even being _in_ Wild Space at all. And this was why his parents had talked him out of joining the Navy. _You’ll never advance,_ his father had said. _Not like you couldn’t run circles around most of them, but they’re not going to let you. Better to stay here, where you’ll be appreciated._

“You’re Eli Vanto?” she said. “You’re carrying one passenger, an alien?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Eli shot a look at Thrawn, to see his reaction to being reduced to _an alien,_ but he didn’t seem to show one at all. “Can I ask what this is about?”

“No, you can’t,” she snapped. “We’ll have you in our hangar bay in a few minutes. We want you and your passenger at the boarding ramp when it opens, unarmed, hands where we can see them. Understand? Or do you need it slower?”

“I understand,” Eli said, through gritted teeth, and the connection cut off.

Eli’s hands seemed to move of their own accord, one gripping the other tightly. A nervous habit of his. The reality of the information they held, what they were trying to do, pressed down on him.

“We should comply with her instructions,” Thrawn said.

Eli searched Thrawn’s face. He had thought he had started to be able to read Thrawn, at least a little, since their conversation in the medbay, but Thrawn only looked blank and impassive now.

“Right,” Eli said, trying to ignore the feeling of dread pooling in his stomach. This was the goal, after all.

But was it really Eli’s goal? Or Thrawn’s alone?  

 

* * *

 

An Imperial officer and two stormtroopers waited for them in the small hangar bay when they exited the ship, hands in the air. The officer’s rank plaque bore the single square of an ensign, and his face bore a blandly unimpressed expression. The stormtroopers stood a few steps behind him, silent and unreadable.

The hangar was almost empty except for them, only a few technicians slouched next to a light shuttle. They didn’t look like they were working. Fuel cables snaked across the floor--clearly no one had bothered to recoil and stow them after use--and one of the overhead lights was burned out.

“Eli Vanto?” the ensign asked. “And non-human?”

“Uh, yes. Sir,” Eli said. “This is--”

“Shut up,” the ensign said, bored. He nodded to the stormtroopers. “Search them.”

Eli gritted his teeth through the slapdash pat-down, telling himself that the indignity would be worth it if it got him a meeting with a commanding officer. Thrawn was searched considerably more thoroughly than Eli, but he just stared into the distance, seemingly unbothered.

But then the stormtrooper yanked Thrawn’s arms down behind his back and cuffed his hands together roughly.

“Hey!” Eli cried. “What are you doing? He’s not--”

“Shut _up_ ,” the ensign interrupted. “We can’t just let him run around loose. Trooper,” he said, addressing the stormtrooper, “take him to a holding chamber.”

“Sir,” the trooper said, and began leading Thrawn away.

“Thrawn,” Eli said desperately, craning his head to get a look at Thrawn’s face. “Thrawn, what-”

But Thrawn only glanced over his shoulder, holding Eli’s gaze for a moment, before nodding once and turning away. The trooper lead him through a door, and he was gone.

Eli was on his own.

 

* * *

 

The air seemed to vibrate in Eli’s lungs, and his legs and arms were heavy, hard to move. The second stormtrooper stood behind him still, a silent reminder of the consequences of a misstep. But he could still make this work. _Had to_ make this work, whatever was happening on this ship. Thrawn couldn’t help him, but playing his cards right looked like the only way to get both him and Thrawn out of here.

“Listen,” he said to the ensign, who was consulting something on his datapad. “I need to speak with your commanding officer. I have information of the highest importance to the Empire.”

The ensign snorted, the first sign of personality he’d shown so far.

“Like anything important happens out here,” he said.

“I mean it,” Eli insisted. “Your commander will want to hear what I have to say. And once they do, I don’t think they’ll be pleased to find out you tried to ignore me.”

The ensign didn’t look up, but his hands stilled on his datapad.

“Besides, bringing me in could look very good for you.” Eli tried to put all the trader’s persuasiveness Kit had taught him into his voice. “How long have you been an ensign? And I’m going to guess that a posting in Wild Space wasn’t your idea.”

The ensign hesitated. Eli held his breath.

“Doesn’t matter,” the ensign finally said, and Eli’s breath hissed out. “You’re up for testing. Cuff him.”

Before Eli could move, the second trooper had pulled his arms behind his back and secured them with a pair of binders. The ensign turned and strode towards the hangar door, and the trooper put a hand between Eli’s shoulder blades and shoved him forward.

“Hey!” Eli said, but the ensign didn’t turn. “Hey, where are you taking me? What test?”

Silence. The ensign lead them through hallways and down corridors, the bleak chrome passages and banks of stark lights blurring together until Eli was lost, until he couldn’t have pointed the way back to the hangar and escape if his life depended on it.

If Thrawn’s life depended on it. Which it might.

His heart sank further, and his hands clenched behind his back until the binders pinched.

He barely noticed when they stopped outside a small door, only coming fully back to himself when the stormtrooper pushed him through.

“Wait here,” the ensign said, and the door swished closed.

“Hey!” Eli yelled, slamming his shoulder into the door.

There was no response. He hadn’t expected one.

The ensign’s footsteps faded off down the corridor, and Eli heard the stormtrooper take up a guard position.

He looked around. He seemed to be in a medical examination room, with an exam table along one wall and a computer terminal with a display interface next to it. Drawers and shelves lined the other walls, and a deep sink took up all of one corner. Otherwise, there was nothing in the room to indicate what he was here for.

His hands were still cuffed behind his back.

 _Nice job, Eli,_ he thought. _Not much use without Thrawn having the ideas, are you?_

He waited, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, too keyed-up and worried to sit down, and unsure what to do. The room was silent except for the background hum of the ship’s engines, without even footsteps or voices in the corridor outside that might give him a clue about what was going on.

Then the door opened again and a man hurried through. He was maybe ten years older than Eli, light haired and pale skinned, with a few early wrinkles and a wry mouth. His rank plaque showed more squares than an ensign, but Eli wasn’t sure of his exact rank.

“Eli Vanto? I’m Doctor Periton,” the man said. He spun Eli around by the shoulder and undid the binders.

“Yes, sir,” Eli said, shaking his hands out. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on, but--”

“Lysatra, right?” Periton asked, face lighting up. “Knew I recognized the accent!” he continued at Eli’s bewildered nod. “I grew up on Portaganda. That makes us practically neighbors.” He laughed. “Got out of there as soon as I could, though. What do you do on Lysatra?”

Now that Eli was listening, he could hear the cracks in Periton’s precise Coruscanti accent, the places where the Wild Space drawl threatened to break through.

“I work for my family’s shipping company,” he said.

“Vanto Shipping, of course,” Periton said. “Doing some great work, making a name in the Galaxy. And you’re out on a run by yourself? Minus your passenger, of course. That’s a lot of responsibility, so young.”

“Yes,” Eli said. Was this about Thrawn? Had the Empire somehow figured out why he was here? “My cousin was traveling with me for a while, but she left to go back to her real job.”

“Your cousin Kit Tersu, yes,” Periton said. He stepped around Eli and stood in front of the computer’s display interface. He entered a passcode and what looked like a database appeared on the display. “Kit Tersu,” he repeated quietly.

Eli’s stomach dropped.

Kit still hadn’t checked in. Maybe it was nothing.

“That’s right, sir. Look, can you tell me what this is about? Or can you get me a meeting with the captain? I really think that-”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Periton said. “Just, ah, a routine test. You probably already had one when you were younger.” He turned from the display and began rummaging through the drawers along the wall.

“I could tell you if I knew what you were testing,” Eli said.

“No need, no need,” Periton said absently. He slammed the last drawer shut and swore. “My laser-brained assistant didn’t restock and I’m out of test kits.”

“Uh, sorry?” Eli offered when it became obvious that Periton was looking for a response.

“Well, you know how it is in Wild Space,” Periton said. He winked at Eli. “Everyone trying to get away with the minimum. Honestly, I do my best, but it’s like people here don’t even want to make an effort. I’m sure you run into it all the time.”

“I guess.”

“No need to be coy! Who would know better than us what the people are like here, right? All right, I’m going to go chase her down. Don’t go anywhere!”

 _You know I can’t_ , Eli thought, and sat down heavily on the exam table.

He looked around the room again, trying to see if there was something he’d missed, something that would tell him what was going on, but there was nothing: the table, the locked cabinets, the empty sink. The room was quiet enough that he could hear the stormtrooper shifting outside the door. Still guarded, even if escape were possible. At least his hands were free now.

If only he knew what they _wanted_.

 _Think, Eli_ , he told himself. Periton had been evasive, hiding behind chatter and--real? Feigned?--friendliness, but he’d let some things slip. Eli was here for some sort of medical or biological test, and if it was benign, Eli was from Jakku. Periton was familiar with Vanto Shipping. Because he was from Wild Space himself? Or was there a more threatening reason?

And then there was Kit.

It was uncharacteristic of her not to check in; Kit was responsible, thoughtful, very aware of her position in the company. She wouldn’t just miss a scheduled checkpoint unless there was some good reason.

Or if she couldn’t. If something had happened.

 _And you were too busy kissing Thrawn to make sure she was all right_ , Eli thought bitterly. His hands clenched and he struck the bed beside him, and with the movement he noticed the computer terminal glowing next to him.

Glowing. Periton had left it logged in.

Of all the stupid mistakes, but it was an advantage for Eli now. He slid to the floor and crept to the terminal, desperate not to make a sound that would give the stormtrooper outside reason to come check on him.

The terminal appeared to display a database, densely packed with information in neat rows and columns. As Eli read, his heart picked up until he could feel it pounding in his throat, and a roaring sound grew in his ears until he half-collapsed against the terminal.

This was a record of the dead.

He slowed his scan, looking for one name, hoping he wouldn’t find it and knowing for certain that he would.

 _Tersu, Kit_ , the entry read. _Atkal, Lysatra; M-count: 7,500-8,000; Supervising officer: Periton, V_ . A time and date: today’s date, and just hours before. _Terminated._

Kit was dead. Kit was dead, and Periton had killed her.

She was dead, and Eli would bet a year’s paycheck it had something to do with the test she had undergone, with whatever an M-count was.

His stomach dropped and roiled, and for a moment he was sure he would vomit. Gods, there were thousands of names in the database, thousands of people who had been captured, tested, and killed. That gave him an idea. He keyed a command into the terminal, and a new list appeared, still thousands of names long. A few more commands, and he had found the entry he was looking for.

_Vanto, Eli. Atkal, Lysatra. Collect for testing (biological/familial predisposition)._

Periton would be back any moment, and whatever was in store for Eli would definitely be worse if Periton caught him in the Empire’s records. Eli’s hands began to shake; he clenched them, then pressed them firmly against the desk.

Then a chime sounded, and Eli jumped before realizing that it wasn’t an alarm, but an all-ship broadcast.

“Attention. Attention. _ILC Twisted Claw_ : All Hands Alert,” a voice said over the comm system. “Following the discovery of an illegal listening station, 703rd Task Force Sub-leader _IHC Black Talon_ has destroyed the outpost at Mora Mirinaaia and all its inhabitants, many of whom were confirmed Rebel sympathizers. This sector will enjoy increased peace, security, and productivity as a result of the elimination of this threat. Your Emperor is pleased by this decisive victory, and thanks the members of the 703rd for their service. End message.”

For a moment, Eli couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He blinked, replayed the message in his head: it stayed the same.

_Destroyed. All its inhabitants. Rebel sympathizers. Peace, security, and productivity._

Takki and his devotion to freedom of information. Lup Sru and zir shop of glittering junk, zir expressive face and delight in a story. All the people who passed through Mora Mirinaaia, whether truly Rebel sympathizers or traders, smugglers, travellers. All gone.

_Your Emperor._

Not Eli’s Emperor any more.

He grabbed a data chip out of his pocket and shoved it into the access port. Working quickly, he copied as much of the database onto it as he could, making sure he included both his and Kit’s entries.

His heart thumped in his chest, hammering against his ribs during the few seconds it took for the data to finish copying, and then he tore the chip out of the port and thrust it deep into his pocket again. A few commands to bring the database back to what it looked like when Periton had left, and he leapt away from the terminal and threw himself back onto the exam table just as the door swung open and Periton re-entered.

“All set!” Periton chirped. He carried a small box in his hand. “I had to go on a bit of a chase. The regular supply cabinet was out of stock, and of course my assistant was on a meal break, so I had to comm the cantina to get her to fetch one from the aft medpoint and bring it back down here...but we’re ready now.”

He peered at Eli. “You a little nervous? You’re looking a bit gray.”

Eli’s heart beat hard enough he was sure Periton would be able to hear it, and the data chip weighed down his pocket. But Periton, unwittingly, had given him an excuse.

“Just don’t much like doctors,” he said, letting his accent thicken just a touch. He laughed a little, with fear he didn’t have to fake. “You hear that a lot, I bet.”

“There’s nothing to be worried about, don’t be a child,” Periton said. His mouth twisted. “This will take thirty seconds and won’t hurt at all. Give me your arm.”

Eli’s mind raced. He was alone with Periton. Thrawn was...not available. Even if he could overpower or outsmart Periton, the stormtrooper was still outside the door, and he had no idea how to get back to his ship, and no desire to escape without Thrawn.

There was no way out but through.

If he had learned anything from Thrawn, it was that sometimes waiting and thinking was more important than action. “What did you say you were testing?” he asked, offering Periton his forearm. It felt like sticking his hand in a rathtar’s mouth.

Periton flipped his arm over and pressed the box to the underside. Eli felt the buzzing of the disinfectant beam, and then-

“Ow!” he yelled, jerking his arm out of Periton’s grasp. He looked down, and sweat sprung to his forehead. A chunk the size of his thumbnail was missing from his forearm, seeping blood around the edges where it had been imperfectly cauterized. He jerked his other arm up to instinctively cover it, then pulled his hand away and hissed as the wound burned and stung.

Periton was pressing buttons on the box, frowning slightly. He tapped the side with his fingernail, then looked up as though suddenly remembering Eli was in the room. “Just a small biopsy,” he said. “It’ll take a minute to process.”

He went back to staring at the box, and Eli shivered. Blood was running down his arm more freely now, but Periton had made no move to tend the wound. _I guess it’s not necessary if you’re just going to kill me,_ Eli thought darkly.

Kit had waited like this.

Kit and gods knew how many others, not knowing what was going on, not knowing they waited for their deaths.

Eli knew. There was a chance that box would output a result that doomed him, and then he would have to think of something, even if it was hopeless, because there was no way that he was going quietly.

The box beeped gently, and its output window glowed.

“One thousand to one thousand five hundred,” Periton said, and sighed.

“Is that, uh, good?” Eli asked. He shifted unobtrusively on the exam table, getting his legs under him, getting ready to spring.

Periton looked up at him, and his friendly smile switched back on. “Very good indeed, Eli!” he said. “Of course, we’re just making some routine checks, so the actual number doesn’t matter much. But you can relax. It’s a good day for you.” He clapped Eli on the shoulder, then went to the cabinet. “So stop worrying about doctors, eh?”

Periton pulled boxes of sterile wipes and bacta-infused bandages out of the cabinet, and Eli’s shoulders dropped a little. “I’ll try,” he said, summoning a weak smile. He wasn’t out of danger yet. Periton hadn’t glanced at the data terminal since he’d re-entered the room, but there was always the chance he would notice something was off.

Eli didn’t think Periton would need much of an excuse to kill him.

 _Keep him distracted._ Well, that wouldn’t be hard.

“So,” Eli said as Periton began wiping away the blood, “which Academy did you attend? Did you get to go all the way to Coruscant?”

“No, no, although I was posted to Jedha for my residency,” Periton said.

Eli knew his cue. “Wow,” he said, widening his eyes. He had no idea where Jedha was, or if it was worth being impressed over, but Periton clearly wanted him to be impressed. Anything just to get through this.

“That’s the really great thing about the Empire, of course,” Periton continued. “There are opportunities for anyone willing to work hard for them. I graduated top of my class from Myomar Academy, and here I am!” He smiled, but it looked brittle to Eli.

“Congratulations, sir,” Eli said, and hoped it didn’t sound too false. The hands that were now smoothing a bandage over the hole in his arm were the hands that had murdered Kit without compunction, had killed countless other people. It was all he could do not to wrench his arm out of Periton’s hold and hit him in his obsequious, insincere, face.

“Thank you!” Periton said. He finished applying the bandage and gave it a pat. “You know, Eli, the opportunities of the Empire are available to you, too. Do you want to ferry around cargoes for your family your whole life? Military service would suit you, and you know-” he gave Eli what he probably thought was a conspiratorial look “-I could be convinced to put in a good word for your application to Myomar. You think about that.”

“Thank you, sir, I will,” Eli said. Maybe the bile in his throat would just sound like unquestioning admiration. Maybe this horrible experience was about to end, and he could leave soon. Maybe he would figure out what to do with the data he had stolen. Maybe...he wasn’t thinking about Thrawn.

Periton’s personal comm chimed, and he paused to read the message. “More luck for you, Eli!” he said, hooking the comm back to his belt. “Seems like our captain is willing to talk to you and that alien you’ve been carting around. Something about information you have for us? The trooper outside will take you to her briefing room.”

An hour ago, this had been what Eli desperately wanted. Now, it was the worst news he could have received.

“Great!” he said, and hopped off the exam table. For a moment he wondered if his legs would carry him, then if faking illness would get him out of the meeting, but discarded the idea immediately: he didn’t want to spend another second at Periton’s mercy.

Periton escorted him to the door. “Your star’s on the rise, Eli,” he said as he keyed it open. “The Empire can help you. Don’t forget it.”

“I won’t, sir,” Eli said. Forgetting this--any of this--would be impossible. He already knew he’d be seeing Periton’s face in his nightmares.

Eli followed the stormtrooper deeper into the ship.

 

* * *

 

The captain’s briefing room was small, with only a single data terminal and wall-mounted display screen. There was barely space for the heavy body-wood table that dominated the center of the room, and certainly no room for chairs. Whoever commanded this ship was more interested in displays of affluence and power than in being able to conduct briefings comfortably.

Thrawn stood against the wall, his usual quietly calculating expression on his face. The Imperials hadn’t removed the binders entirely, but his hands were bound in front of his body now. His face appeared to be free of cuts or bruises, and there were no visible wounds or bandages.

Whatever had happened to Eli hadn’t happened to him.

Thrawn’s expression didn’t change when Eli entered the room, but Eli saw him perform the same brief scan that Eli himself had done, checking Eli over for injuries. Thrawn’s eyes caught on the bandage decorating Eli’s forearm and his mouth tightened almost imperceptibly. The wound began to burn again, and Eli clenched his hands at his sides to keep from pulling at the bandage.

“Vanto,” said a voice, and Eli jerked around to see the ship’s captain at the other end of the room.

Stars, he hadn’t even noticed her. He’d had eyes only for Thrawn.

The captain stood at the far end of the room, a trooper at her side and the display screen over her shoulder. Her face was pinched, her eyes a brilliant blue that caught the light even across the room. Behind her stood the ensign who had taken Eli to Periton’s exam room, a smug look on his face.

“Do I have your attention?” the captain asked snidely.

“Yes, ma’am,” Eli said. His thoughts seemed to tumble over each other wildly, no one idea staying on top long enough for him to grab it, the only constant a thread of smoldering anger. Thrawn didn’t matter; Eli couldn’t count on him any more. All that mattered was getting out.

“Your alien,” the captain said, flicking her fingers at Thrawn like she was shaking off something unsanitary, “says you have information for us. He refused to share it without you present. Ensign Mayfair here also said that you seemed convinced you had something of value to share.” She folded her arms and raised an eyebrow.

Eli felt a bizarre stab of gratitude for Thrawn, who could have easily executed their plan himself and left Eli behind. It was an odd mix with the leftover adrenaline and nausea from his encounter with Periton, and he shook himself internally.

It wasn’t important now. Eli was abandoning the plan, and their paths would part ways.

“Come on, out with it,” the captain said. “You need a written invitation? I didn’t know you hicks could read.”

And there was the answer.

Eli shot one final look at Thrawn, not knowing if he was saying _trust me_ , or _I’m sorry_ , or _goodbye_.

Thrawn’s eyebrow twitched. A message had been received, but Eli couldn’t have guessed what it was.

He slouched a bit, chewed on his lip, and cranked his accent up as high as it would go.

“You ever hear of Purrgil?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” the captain said, taken aback. “What is that, some sort of Wild Space boogeyman? A story for your infants?”

“Oh, they’re real, ma’am,” Eli said, widening his eyes. “Horrible violent beasts, they are. Enormous vacuum-dwellers half a klick long, razor-sharp teeth as long as you or me, and a hundred tentacles that’ll pull you in like the cold embrace of a sucker-snake. They travel using the hyperspace lanes. Wild Space is full of ‘em. You look out your viewport, you see a pod of Purrgil coming up alongside…” He gave a theatrical shudder. “Well, we lost my cousin and a whole cargo of Altritian hayseed to the Purrgil just last year, and that’s a fact.”

Eli kept his eyes fixed on the captain. He didn’t dare look at Thrawn.

The captain’s mouth was getting more and more pursed, and angry color was beginning to bloom in her cheeks. It might have been funny, if Eli had any humor left in him. “I see,” she said. “And why are you bothering me with this?”

Eli put his hands flat on the expensive table and leaned forward, pretending not to notice the captain’s nostrils flare in annoyance. “Rebels, ma’am,” he said. His heart raced and thudded. “We’re good Imperial citizens out here in Wild Space, as I’m sure you know, and I could not let you pass by without giving you a warning.”

He paused for effect.

“Yes?” the captain snapped after a moment. “What does this have to do with rebels?”

“The rebels,” Eli said, lowering his voice like he was imparting a great secret, “ _have formed an alliance with the Purrgil_.”

The captain stared at him, and Ensign Mayfair’s mouth dropped open slightly. The troopers didn’t move, but Eli felt their eyes on him too, burning through their helmets. He still wasn’t looking at Thrawn.

“What?” the captain finally coughed out.

“It’s true, ma’am. My cousin--another cousin, one that didn’t get eaten?--saw it himself,” Eli said.

“I don’t care about your cousin,” the captain said, rolling her eyes.

Eli almost lost his composure. His mouth went dry, and his hands started curling into fists and lifting off the table before he fought them back down. There would be time for fury if he survived. Right now he needed all his concentration focused on his act.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Eli said, layering contriteness into his voice. “But I had to tell someone, because no one believes me at home. Rebels are riding the Purrgil through the hyperspace lanes, an unstoppable army that can go anywhere and be gone again in an instant.” Eli spread his arms wide. “An unholy alliance of troublemakers and vicious monsters. There could be a pod of two hundred Purrgil and rebels armed to the teeth ready to jump out of hyperspace _right now_.”

Behind the captain, Mayfair looked like he was about to either throw a fit or burst into tears. “Are you- are you _joking_?” he snarled. “You little low-class pest, do you seriously expect us to believe this?”

The captain reached back and put a hand on Mayfair’s chest, silencing him. She turned to Thrawn. “Can you corroborate this...fantasy?” she asked.

Thrawn looked back at her steadily, but Eli could almost see the fierce flicker of calculation in his blank red eyes. This was the moment: if Thrawn chose to contradict Eli, Eli would most likely die.

Then, so casually it was barely notable, Thrawn reached up and brushed his hand through his hair. Eli almost collapsed with relief.

“The information Trader Vanto has given you is completely correct. The rebels have built alliances with several pods of Purrgil, based on exchanging transport through the hyperspace lanes for fuel captured from ships, which the Purrgil use as food,” Thrawn said. He wasn’t bothering to change his accent, but Eli hoped the story was too outlandish for it to matter. “I believe you owe Trader Vanto a great debt of gratitude for bringing this critical information to the Empire’s attention.”

“Oh, do I now,” the captain said. She glared at Eli.

Eli gazed innocently back.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you here next week for the epilogue!

The Imperials practically threw them back onto the _Gift_.

“Waste of time,” one of them scoffed, and it was lucky, Eli thought, that the hatch closed before he had time to whirl around and bury his fist in the man’s stomach.

In the cockpit, he set the coordinates for what would have been their next stop. Not for Lysatra. Even if they were a _waste of time_ , they might be tracked.

“Eli—“ Thrawn was saying. Eli had been ignoring him as he guided the ship out of the docking bay and jumped to hyperspace, too angry and confused for conversation. And now Thrawn’s cool, even voice was as close to displaying emotion as Eli had ever heard it. “I don’t understand. That was not what we discussed—“

Eli pushed past him, avoiding his eyes, heading back to the medbay. He was already tearing off the bandage Periton had applied, setting his wrist throbbing. He threw the bandage on the ground and ripped open a cabinet. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for. His vision was white at the edges, his heart pounding.

“Eli?” Thrawn had followed. He should have stayed on the Imperial ship.

Eli ignored him, glaring into the cabinet. Nothing in here was breakable, and he wanted very badly to break something.

He had time to be angry now.

He slashed his uninjured hand through the cabinet, knocking medpacks, bandages, and bottles of bacta onto the floor with a crash. He kicked one of the bottles for good measure. It bounced harmlessly off the wall.

There was silence for a long, long moment. Thrawn stood in the doorway, a hand outstretched uncertainly.

“You are bleeding,” Thrawn said finally. “Let me--”

Eli looked down at his hands, clenched around the metal rail of the cot. The wound in his forearm was dripping blood onto the floor. “I don’t care,” he said. “Kit’s dead.”

Thrawn stepped back. “I am sor—“

“Shut up,” Eli hissed. “Just shut up. Kit is dead. Mora Mirinaaia is gone. They razed it. Because of us. Because we were there asking questions. And don’t you dare tell me you’re sorry. So no, I didn’t do what _we discussed_ because it’s not _we_ , is it? It’s you and your plans and your agenda and if you want them as allies, I don’t care why and I don’t care what the hell you do next. I’m done. You should have stayed there, it was what you wanted anyway.”

“It was,” Thrawn said. “I thought it was.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Eli was shouting now, advancing on him.

Thrawn spread his hands. “I do not know,” he said.

“Liar!” Eli yelled. Thrawn was more than a head taller than he was, but Eli still gripped him by the shoulders. “All you’ve done since I saved your life is use me, put my family in danger, lie to me—“

“No,” Thrawn said.

“Then what have you been doing? Why did you stay? What is this?” Eli’s voice broke as he shook Thrawn as hard as he could. Thrawn could probably break him in half without trying, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I want some answers. I want to turn around and ram this ship into those Imperials, I want to throw you out the gods-damn _airlock_ —will you say something?”

Thrawn wasn’t resisting Eli’s grip at all, allowing Eli to shake him.

And then, as Eli watched, nearly stunned out of his rage, Thrawn bowed his head. “There is nothing for me to say. I will answer any question you wish. I will walk to the airlock, if you say that is what you want. I…I am known as a military genius among my people—“

Eli scoffed.

“—and yet, I now find myself without a strategy. I never intended this. I have made a poor repayment for your aid.”

“Repayment,” Eli snarled. “Is that what you think this is about?”

He let go of Thrawn’s shoulders and turned to leave. But Thrawn caught his arm, held it.

“Repayment,” Thrawn said after a moment, “is not an adequate word. For what this is about.”  


* * *

 

Eli’s muscles were tense, his face flushed with anger. Thrawn thought he would wrench away, but he didn’t.

“Why did you stay? Why didn’t you tell them about the rebels?” Eli said, quiet now. Still angry, but listening. “Don’t tell me you don’t know.”  
  
Thrawn had been within reach of his goal. All his planning, his observations and yes, manipulations, since he had recovered, had gone into that moment on the ship. The Imperials were disorganized, they were undisciplined and isolated.   
  
It would have been easy to take the advantage. It would have been a simple matter to convince them to at least pass Thrawn up the chain of command. Even now, he could have been on the way to the Imperial capitol.   
  
Then they had brought Eli in to the briefing room. Eli, clearly distressed, angry, injured, distracted—and Thrawn’s plan was cast aside without a thought. As though his duty to the Ascendancy meant nothing.

He pulled Eli close, wrapping an arm around his waist. Thrawn felt Eli's muscles stiffen, as though he'd flinch back, push Thrawn away.   
  
But Eli didn't push him away. He waited.

The kiss was gentle at first, a tentative brush of lips. Eli kissed back harder, and Thrawn responded, until they were falling into each other, Eli's hands on either side of Thrawn's face, Thrawn's entangled in Eli's shirt.   
  
Eli was tracing Thrawn's cheekbones, as if he had somehow intuited their sensitivity, and Thrawn had to break the kiss abruptly to gasp. Eli didn't let him pull away, sliding his hands into Thrawn's hair, sliding over his scalp.   
  
Like that first day. Reciprocal, though Thrawn had fallen far, far short of reciprocating what Eli had given him. Eli had offered solace, compassion, rescue. And Thrawn had repaid him with destruction.   
  
Thrawn pushed that aside. He reached up, responded in kind, Eli's curls sliding through his fingers. Eli moaned at the touch, pushed himself even closer to Thrawn, kissed him even harder, as though they weren't already crushed together, already mindlessly seeking to touch and be touched everywhere that they could reach.   
  
They crashed to the floor, Thrawn rolling on top of Eli.

"What do you--?" Thrawn started, and Eli captured his bottom lip, sucked on it, bit down a little.   
  
"Don't ask. Don't stop," Eli said, his breath harsh. "Just-- I want--"   
  
Eli rolled his hips against Thrawn's, threw his head back, revealing the line of his throat. Thrawn applied his lips to Eli's warm skin, mouthing at the juncture between his jaw and his neck, feeling Eli’s pulse jump.   
  
"Think you can figure it out," Eli muttered. Thrawn agreed. There were enough anatomical similarities, he guessed, between the two of them to just keep--he thrust his hips against Eli's. Pressure, friction, heat -- if they were built similarly, he knew what Eli would want--     
  
Eli turned his head so they were kissing again. This time, it started as a light brush of lips and turned deep and wet and dirty, until Eli was sprawled underneath Thrawn, moaning.   
  
It had been a long time since Thrawn had sought release with anyone other than himself. He had never done so without a clear plan, never with desperation, with this urgency. 

Eli groped at the fasteners of Thrawn’s pants; Thrawn fumbled with the hem of Eli’s shirt, getting one hand onto hot skin before he was distracted by Eli’s mouth, shiny and bitten-red and there to be kissed. Eli made a frustrated noise into Thrawn's mouth and gripped his hips, grinding against him. Thrawn's cock was so hard it was aching, and the sudden friction, the pressure, was so welcome, so good--he rocked forward, and Eli drove him on.   
  
"Don't stop, don't stop," Eli was saying in between biting kisses, his movements growing clumsier.   
  
"I won't," Thrawn said, and realized only after Eli went back to kissing him that he had spoken in Cheunh, all his other languages deserting him. He rolled them over so Eli was astride him and drew his thumbs down either side of Eli's neck. Eli shuddered and moaned, grasping at the collar of Thrawn's tunic, his hips bucking against Thrawn's, and collapsed against him.   
  
"Thrawn," he gasped, pushing his hand between them to palm Thrawn's erection through the fabric of his pants, his hand radiating heat. "Is this--"   
  
Thrawn didn't hear the rest of what Eli asked, his orgasm ripping through him like a wave, leaving him stunned and exhausted in its wake, panting for air.   
  
"Reciprocal," Eli muttered. He was lying on Thrawn's chest. "Not repayment." The words were blurred with exhaustion.   
  
Thrawn didn't respond. He wasn't sure if there was an adequate response. He smoothed a hand down Eli's back and felt his muscles slacken, his breathing even out. Deeply asleep in a matter of seconds, with the answer to his questions still unspoken aloud.

Thrawn lay there with Eli’s warm weight atop him, his mind blank. There was no plan, no scheme, nothing that could have prepared him for this.

 

* * *

 

Eli stared at the slats of the bunk above him and thought about patterns.

He was carefully not thinking about Kit, about Periton, about the Empire, about the datacard in his pocket and what he would do about it. About the fact that his clothes were in a heap on the floor somewhere and what he’d have to do about _that._

If he was in a bunk, he’d been carried there. _Thrawn_ had carried him there.

That was part of the pattern, Eli thought, moving to the refresher. There were bruises and bite marks on his neck, thumbprints on his arms. The wound on his forearm no longer bled. In the shower, he thought about strong hands in his hair, a hand on his shoulder looking for support. His bed made, his wounds dressed. Being shoved aside over the wall, kept out of the fight. Language lessons.

Stories.

Eli shut the water off, dressed, and found Thrawn on the bridge. A glance at the console told him that they were in a stable orbit somewhere. Eli didn’t recognize the coordinates, but the viewport showed a barren planetoid below. They were in the middle of nowhere, out of the way, their engines powered down.

Waiting.

Thrawn looked at Eli from his seat at the console.

Eli folded his arms, suddenly very unsure of what to do with his hands. Thrawn looked subdued. Closer to how he’d looked at Eli as he’d surfaced from unconsciousness that first time.

There was a bite mark on Thrawn’s neck, too, just visible above his shirt collar. Eli flushed, though whether from anger, from arousal, or from shame, he couldn’t really say.

“We were not followed,” Thrawn said. “I made several hyperspace jumps to be certain, after you fell asleep. These coordinates are far from any major shipping lanes detailed in the ship’s navicomp.”

“Good,” Eli said, for lack of a better answer, and because he was avoiding addressing what had happened _before_ he’d fallen asleep. Then, bitterly: “I don’t think they’re interested in us, anyway. Whatever they were looking for, apparently I don’t have it.”

“What were they looking for?” Thrawn asked. “What happened?”

Eli leaned against the console, away from Thrawn. Periton and his _tests_ , that list of names.

The datacard.

Eli wanted to tell Thrawn everything. But he wanted an answer, first. An actual answer. Spoken aloud.

“If you hadn’t backed me up, they would have thrown me in prison, probably. Or worse. But you could have contradicted me. Told them I was some crazy hick. It was what they thought, anyway. You could have gotten what you wanted. What changed your mind?”

Thrawn spread his hands. “I...trusted you,” he said, as though even he were surprised by the statement.

“I--” Eli was brought up short by Thrawn’s words -- and his tone. They hadn’t known each other long, true, but Eli didn’t think Thrawn was a man who used a word like _trust_ easily.

“We can part ways if you wish. As you said, I have been...dishonest. I’ve caused you pain.”

Another pause.

“If I did want you to leave, what would you do?”

“My plans have shifted based on this new information. I no longer believe there is hope of achieving anything productive for my people in the Empire,” Thrawn said slowly. “I would have to explore other factions in this region for their potential as bulwarks against the threats facing the Ascendancy.”

“Alone?”

“If necessary,” Thrawn said. “I’d prefer it otherwise.”

_Repayment is not an adequate word for what this is about._

The pattern unfolded before him. It seemed impossible, but no matter how Eli looked at it, it seemed to lead him to the same conclusion. 

“There’s a story,” Eli said, “from Lysatra, I mean, one I didn’t tell you. About the Chiss.”

The inevitable blush was climbing up Eli’s chest, curling into his cheeks. It didn’t matter that hours before he’d been moaning in Thrawn’s ear. Thrawn hadn’t been looking at him like this, then.

Eli pressed on, falling back on the storytelling cadence, the familiar opening words: “Long and long ago, there was a young woman of Atkal. Sarai was a woodswoman, roaming the wilderness. On this day, her steps led her to a clearing she’d never seen before. In it, there was a crashed ship — and a lone Chiss warrior, injured nigh to death. Sarai knew the Chiss were dangerous, capricious, but her heart broke for the woman’s plight. She brought the Chiss woman to her cottage to recover. Her injuries were grave, but Sarai was a skilled healer, and the Chiss woman awoke a few days later.

“From then on, the Chiss warrior was Sarai’s shadow. There was nowhere Sarai went that the Chiss did not follow, there was nothing Sarai needed that the Chiss did not provide. Every service Sarai did for her companion, her companion returned.   
  
“As the days went on, Sarai and her companion grew closer. The Chiss taught Sarai her language. And Sarai began to notice the Chiss’s raven-black hair, glinting in the midday sun, her eyes like rubies, her voice like the fluting of pipes.   
  
“But the Chiss were myths, even long and long ago. Sarai knew her companion would return to her world. And so she locked her love away and continued with her work. It was on her usual patrol, with the Chiss a few steps behind her, that she was surprised by a wild boar. Her Chiss companion sprang to her defense, saving her life — and afterwards, Sarai, in wonder, watched the proud Chiss warrior kneel in front of her.   
  
“‘Lady Sarai,’ her companion said. ‘Since fate placed our paths together, we have traded service for service, and now, we have traded life for life. My life is yours. As am I, will you have me.’   
  
“The story doesn’t record Sarai’s shock or her relief. But it does record her response. ‘My love, my heart was yours from the moment I saw you. I accept what you have offered and give it back a thousand times.’     
  
“And they lived happily together, for the rest of their days. And that is the tale.”   
  
Eli swallowed, his mouth dry. “So, is there any truth to this one?”

Thrawn _stared_.

“More truth than any tale you have shared before,” he said, finally.

“And is that--are you--”

“The story you told is a basically accurate description of our practice of _mesur'aun csana'nai_. I do not know the Basic translation, but in Sy Bisti the closest is _kepegunu_.”

“Courtship,” Eli translated.

“Not quite, but close enough,” Thrawn said. “For the Chiss, in emotional entanglements, reciprocity is paramount. Repeated exchanges demonstrate...affinity, between partners. Trust. Of course, usually less mortal peril is involved.”

“I’d hope so,” Eli said.

Thrawn continued as though Eli hadn’t spoken. “It was inadvertent on my part, at first. But you seemed to respond, and now, I find that...as I said, I could take the next steps alone. I prefer not to.”

As declarations went, it wasn’t quite _my life is yours_ , Eli thought.

Or maybe it was.

Eli took the other seat at the console, the co-pilot’s seat.

“I did respond,” he said. “I don’t think I meant to, but that story’s always been my favorite.” The cockpit was small. The two of them were nearly touching. “And we do seem to...work well together. Is there anything else I should know? Anything else you’ve been keeping from me?”

Thrawn hesitated. But honesty had become...important to him.

“I bypassed the ship’s communication circuits to send a message to my superiors,” he said. “An outgoing message only, simply informing them that I lived. They will have taken no action, if the message was even received.”

Eli looked at the ceiling. “I should be mad,” he said to himself. “Thrawn, you idiot. You could have just asked to use our comms.”

Thrawn stayed silent. He could not have just asked, but Eli would not understand. And he had planned to do more; only their encounter with the Empire had prevented him.

“You’re putting the comm circuits back when we’re done here,” Eli said. “Okay, is that it?”

“I’ve told you all,” Thrawn said. “Truly. My exile, my true purpose in the Empire. I said I would answer your questions honestly, and I will.”

“Yeah, well, you also said you’d let me put you out the airlock,” Eli said. He let himself relax in his seat, his leg touching Thrawn’s.

Thrawn inclined his head. “I…meant it. In the moment,” he said, seeming surprised at himself. “You were extremely angry.”

He reached for Eli’s hand.

Eli let him take it. Thawn turned it over, stroking his palm gently as he examined the injury to Eli’s forearm.

“Who did this?” Thrawn said.

Eli told him everything. Periton, the test, the alert from the Empire. The list of names. Throughout Eli’s toneless recitation, Thrawn’s grip on Eli’s hand tightened.

“And he did not tell you the purpose of the test?”

“He said it was routine, that I might have already had it done,” Eli said. “I’ve never heard of anything like it. But...I took the data.”

“You stole it?”

“I copied it. Onto a data card, as much as would fit. But there’s not much information other than the numbers. Except--” Eli swallowed. “the results of a certain range are recorded, too. If it’s too high, they kill you.”

“May I see the card?” Thrawn asked. He had gone back to stroking Eli’s palm.

_I could take the next steps alone. I prefer not to._

Eli didn’t want to be alone either.

“Yeah,” he said. “Let me get it.”

 

* * *

 

“Well?” Eli asked. The data matrix floated before them, a dizzying grid of blue light. Thrawn leaned closer, his eyes catching on names, dates, values, looking for the patterns.

“Wait, here,” Eli said. He coded a few commands into the data terminal and the matrix rearranged itself, about a sixth of its rows now highlighted red. It was still hundreds of names. “See, it’s something about this M-count value. Anything above about 6,000 is labeled _terminated_.”

His shoulders tightened and he gestured at two rows in the middle of the data table. “Here’s mine,” he continued, voice darkening. “And here’s Kit’s.”

Thrawn examined the two rows, his own shoulders tensing, and compared them to the rest of the matrix. There were thousands of names here, most with the _Collect for testing_ label that accompanied Eli’s own entry. Whatever Periton and the _Twisted Claw_ had been up to, they had barely started.

Thrawn had a sinking, horrible, suspicion he knew what was going on.

“Eli,” he said. “Do you still want to throw me out the airlock?”

Eli huffed out a laugh. “Not until you said that. Uh, why?”

He smiled at Thrawn, but the muscles around his eyes were tight.

Thrawn stared at the data display. “I know what this is,” he said. “I know what they are testing for. But, Eli-” he paused, unsure how to make his case.

“Tell me,” Eli said, his voice urgent. “Thrawn, tell me what it is.”

Thrawn looked at him: the curves of Eli’s cheeks, the curls of hair falling over his forehead, the mouth that Thrawn had kissed so hungrily, the marks Thrawn had left on his neck. The lips that parted as Thrawn’s gaze lingered, the heat rising in Eli’s face as his breath quickened, as his fingers flexed, just a little, on the console.

“I can’t,” Thrawn said, and watched Eli flinch. “Listen. Do you remember when I told you about myself, in the medbay? I told you that I would not imperil my entire people to answer your questions.”

Eli nodded, his mouth set.

“Telling you my story is one thing,” Thrawn said. “But this...if I am right, this test concerns my people’s greatest secret, the thing we conceal above all else.” He searched for some kind of understanding on Eli’s face. “I cannot tell you that secret, cannot tell you what the test is about. It is worth more than my life. But this information, these deaths, this hunt…”

“What?” Eli asked. His voice was almost pleading.

“They make the Empire my enemy, and the enemy of all the Chiss.”

“Your enemy,” Eli repeated, sounding a little shell-shocked. “What does that mean?”

“I had already decided that the Empire was a poor prospect for an ally in the Ascendency’s wars,” Thrawn said slowly. He had judged wrongly at every turn, and admitting it burned. “This new information, though...it makes the Empire a threat to our civilization, our way of life. We can no longer risk their attention turning to us.” He forced himself to hold Eli’s eyes. “I am an officer in the Defense Force, no matter where I am. It is my duty to eliminate such threats wherever I find them.”

“You mean-”

“Yes.”

Eli reached across the data terminal and took Thrawn’s hand, clasping it between his own.  Thrawn drew a gulp of air deep into his lungs.

“We don’t have _kepegunu_ in Atkal,” Eli said, thoughtful. “At least, not quite what you described. These days, I’d probably just ask if you wanted to go out for caf. If I was, uh, interested.” The predictable hot flush spread up his cheeks, the marks on his neck glowing slightly hotter. “But Atkal was the capital of the ag district before we became a major shipping port, and we still celebrate some of the old harvest festivals.”

Eli looked down at their joined hands, the muscles in his throat tensing with nervousness. “In the autumn, if I had a sweetheart, we’d braid each other bracelets from the first sheaf of wheat brought out of the fields, for prosperity. And fertility, but, well.”

He took a breath, and then carefully encircled Thrawn’s wrist with his thumb and forefinger.

Thrawn reached out to mirror the gesture. Something in his chest stilled, satisfied.

Eli grinned at him, then launched himself out of his seat and into Thrawn’s lap, sealing their mouths together with such force that Thrawn was driven back into the chair. Thrawn wrapped his arms around Eli’s waist, holding him steady, and Eli brought one hand up to stroke Thrawn’s neck. Eli was warm and alive above him, his body firm and his mouth eager, and Thrawn shoved his hands under Eli’s loose shirt and listened to Eli’s breath quicken.

Eli pulled back, but not far. “I want to take you to bed,” he whispered, eyes still closed. Thrawn leaned up to steal a biting kiss and Eli’s body jerked under his hands. “Properly,” Eli continued. He tilted his head to lick Thrawn’s earlobe, and this time it was Thrawn’s turn to shudder.

“Slowly,” Thrawn murmured, sliding his hands up Eli’s spine, enjoying the way Eli’s shoulders flexed as he pushed their bodies closer.

“Or not,” Eli said, and kissed him again, nipping at his lower lip. His hands drifted down Thrawn’s torso to settle at his hips, where he curled his fingers and squeezed. The movement tightened the fabric across Thrawn’s groin, rubbing it against his cock, and he gasped into Eli’s ear.

Eli laughed softly and pressed a long, wet, kiss to Thrawn’s jaw. “Gonna get your pants off this time,” he muttered, and went to work. Thrawn lifted his hips to help as Eli pulled at his pants, eventually dragging them down to Thrawn’s thighs before giving up. “Or not,” he repeated, a smile in his voice.

Eli’s face was dark, shadowed against the cockpit’s small viewport, and Thrawn’s perception narrowed to how Eli felt against him, how his legs bracketed Thrawn’s on the narrow seat, how his hair brushed Thrawn’s face and neck, how his hands trembled slightly as he drew his fingers down Thrawn’s cock, considered for a moment, and then took firm hold and began to stroke.

Thrawn exhaled, a long low rush of air that seemed to come from the bottom of his lungs, and thrust his hips up to meet Eli’s hand. He groaned, mouth hanging open, and Eli dove down to kiss him, sloppy and loose.

Good, it was good, it was Eli’s hands hot on him, first exploratory and then confident, it was Eli’s weight pushing him back into the seat, it was Eli’s mouth wandering from Thrawn’s lips to his neck, his ears, kissing and biting until little whimpers were tearing their way out of Thrawn’s throat. His head dropped against the seat and a delicious tension began building in his groin, winding tighter and tighter.

“Gods, this is incredible,” Eli whispered, hardly seeming to know he was speaking, and the tension snapped as Thrawn came, panting and shuddering, his hands clenching in Eli’s shirt as he dragged Eli down against his chest.

Eli stayed pressed to him, dropping light kisses across his cheekbones and the plates of bone on his forehead, his hands still trapped between their bodies. His hair was soft beneath Thrawn’s fingers, damp with sweat at the base of his neck.

“Incredible?” Thrawn murmured. He touched his hand to Eli’s cheek to feel the warmth rising there.

Eli turned his head and bit Thrawn’s little finger. “I’ll take it back if you don’t hurry up and do something about this,” he said, grabbing Thrawn’s hand and grinding it against the hardness in his pants.

Thrawn squeezed gently and smiled when Eli gasped. “Turn around,” he said, pulling at Eli’s shoulder. Eli complied, turning to sit in Thrawn’s lap, his back to Thrawn’s chest and his head against Thrawn’s shoulder.

And that was better: the console’s dim lights illuminated the whole of Eli’s long body, spread out there for Thrawn. Eli braced a foot against the console, letting his legs fall open and his hips twitch up like an offering.

An offering Thrawn gladly accepted. He undid the clasps of Eli’s pants and drew out his cock, taking a moment to admire the shifting patterns of heat glowing in the infrared, not touching beyond the gentlest brush of fingers. As he watched, the muscles of Eli’s groin tensed and his cock jerked, leaving a smear of clear liquid on his stomach.

“Oh?” Thrawn asked, tilting his head just slightly to rub his cheek against Eli’s.

“Shut up,” Eli muttered. He nosed Thrawn’s neck, inhaling deeply, before lifting his head to meet Thrawn’s eyes. “Just. Keep looking at me.”

Thrawn began lightly, caressing Eli’s cock with almost no pressure until Eli was sprawled against him, his head thrown back, his eyes locked with Thrawn’s and slitted with pleasure.

“More,” Eli breathed, reaching down to bat at Thrawn’s hand. “Come on, please.”

But instead of grabbing Thrawn’s hand, he closed his fingers around Thrawn’s wrist in imitation--conscious or unconscious--of the gesture that had immediately preceded his frantic kiss.

There was nothing Thrawn could do in response to that but tighten his hand, speed his strokes, listen to the mounting rhythm of Eli’s breath. Eli’s body was warm and loose, and as his orgasm drew closer Thrawn felt Eli’s mouth curve into a smile where it was pressed to Thrawn’s throat.

Trust.

It was trust, trust that let Eli relax so completely into Thrawn’s arms, trust that let him smile and give himself to sensation, trust at last.

He tilted Eli’s face up and met his eyes, held them as they widened. “Now,” Thrawn said, and Eli’s breath caught and his back arched as hot liquid spilled over Thrawn’s hand.

Eli lay limp and gasping on Thrawn’s lap, but he reached up and traced Thrawn’s cheek with a shaking hand. Thrawn shifted them so Eli lay cradled in his arms, legs flung over the armrest, and bent to cover Eli’s slack mouth with his own.

They kissed for a while, slow and quiet, before Eli pulled back. “I don’t know what to do,” he said, straightening up on Thrawn’s lap. He looked over their disheveled bodies, winced, and stripped off his shirt with a resigned sigh. “The Empire is your enemy now, okay,” he continued, using the shirt to clean himself off before offering it to Thrawn. “So what’s the next step? What are we going to do?”

“My options are two,” Thrawn said. “I could return to the Ascendency in violation of my exile and attempt a reconciliation. If successful, I would resume my efforts to protect the Ascendency from within. Or…”

Eli grabbed Thrawn’s face and kissed him hard. “No,” he said, pulling back. His mouth was set, like after everything that had happened he still thought Thrawn might leave. “No, you are staying here.” He kissed Thrawn again, then climbed out of his lap and sat in the other chair.

“I consider the option of returning to the Ascendancy both strategically unprofitable and personally unappealing,” Thrawn said.

“Good,” Eli replied. “Because our other option is to, as you said, explore other factions in this region.”

They looked at each other.

“The rebels we met don’t seem like the best option either,” Eli said, his opinion plain on his face.

Thrawn laughed. “Certainly not. But there will be other, better-organized cells. Perhaps even ones that will know how best to handle the information you obtained from Periton and the _Twisted Claw_. Opportunity, like risk, is everywhere.”

“Yeah,” Eli said. His expression turned inwards. “And I need to...gods, I need to tell Kit’s family. I need to tell them _something_. Probably not the truth, though.” His hands tangled together in his lap.

“Not the truth, no,” Thrawn said. Something in Eli’s face stilled him, and he fumbled for the right words. “Eli. If Kit had been a Chiss...we would have treasured her.”

Eli clicked his tongue against his teeth. “That’s not as comforting as you seem to think it should be,” he said wryly, “but thanks.”

He powered the ship on and began directing them out of the planetoid’s gravity well.

“So we are agreed, then?” Thrawn asked. “A period of reconnaissance, of gathering information. Then, the rebels.”

It felt strange, unnatural, to consider the wishes of another. But it was a strangeness he enjoyed. And it would be mentally stimulating, an interesting exercise, to act in concert with someone he cared for.

“We’re agreed,” Eli said, and shot Thrawn a glowing smile.

No, Thrawn corrected himself. With someone he loved.

He took Eli’s hand. Eli put the ship into hyperdrive and the stars blurred into streaks of brilliant light.

They moved forward, together.

 

 


	8. Epilogue

_A few years later..._

“Oh dear, you’re just arriving and your eleven o’clock is already here!” Threepio fretted.

Bail Organa sighed and sat down at his desk. Threepio was always fretting. He smiled at the droid. “That’s all right, Threepio,” he soothed. “I don’t mind keeping them waiting. Any interesting conversation while they’ve been here?”

“Senator, I don’t know about these two,” Threepio said. “They’ve been talking, and as you know I _am_ programmed with more than six million languages and forms of communication, but I was unable to translate. I’m _terribly_ sorry.”

“Interesting,” Bail said. He pulled out the research his assistant had compiled after they’d received this meeting request. “Well, their company _does_ operate out of Wild Space…” He flicked through the dossier. It had clearly been a prosperous few years for Vanto Shipping and Supply. “Looking to expand, starting with government contracts in the Core, mutually beneficial, supporting a small business…all right, I think I’m caught up. You can send them in, Threepio.”

“Ruffians from Wild Space, oh dear, oh dear,” Threepio muttered to himself. “Nothing but trouble, I’m sure of it.” But he shuffled off, motors whirring.

The two beings he brought back were far from _ruffians._ There was a short human man with brown skin, close-cropped dark hair, and a neatly trimmed beard. The other, his long black hair pulled back from his face, was a _very_ tall Pantoran—no, Bail revised, meeting the being’s red, glowing eyes. He wasn’t sure where this being hailed from, but with eyes like that, it wasn’t Pantora. They were both wearing dark tailored suits, expensive ones. Not the height of Coruscanti fashion, they were too conservative for that, but close.

“Eli Vanto, Chief Financial Officer of Vanto Shipping,” the human introduced himself. He had the soft Wild Space drawling accent Bail had heard before. “Thank you for making time for us, Senator. My partner, Mitth’raw’nuruodo, our Head of Strategy.”

“Senator,” the not-Pantoran said, inclining his head. Bail couldn’t place that accent at all, but there was a little of Wild Space in the way he spoke Basic, too.

Bail shook their hands, trying to recall the pronunciation of that second name. Names were important to get right, in his experience, but he wasn’t sure he could manage that one.

On each of their right wrists, Bail noted, they wore thin cuffs of pale gold, in a woven pattern. Partners in more than business, then.

“Thank you for coming,” Bail said, “Quite a long distance for you to travel. Are the two of you based on Lysatra?”

“Sometimes,” Vanto said, glancing at Mitth’raw’nuruodo. “We travel with the fleet for part of the year to oversee operations. This is my family’s company, so I prefer to be hands-on.”

Small talk was Bail’s finest and most basic tool. As they talked, chatting about the weather on Coruscant (terrible), the traffic (worse), and their recent travel (fine, thank you, and very profitable), he watched the two of them. Their body language—open, but guarded. Wary, a little warier than he expected from businessmen, a wariness more common in soldiers. Focused mostly on each other rather than on him as they traded control of the conversation back and forth—one talking, the other studying him. Their postures, too, were aligned: if one of them shifted position, the other would, within a few minutes, shift to match. These two knew and trusted each other absolutely; it was Bail they weren’t sure of. It made Bail wish, as he so often did, that he and Breha could work together instead of being separated by a few days’ hyperspace travel.

He suspected he knew where this meeting was headed.

They had moved on from small talk and were discussing Vanto Shipping’s proposal for expanding their operations into the Core, starting with a few contracts in Alderaan.

“We believe that these contracts could function as the _fulcrum_ for future business on Chandrilia, even, eventually, on Coruscant proper, in a Standard year or two,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “There is much demand for Alderaanian goods throughout the Empire, particularly in Wild Space, where they command very high prices.”

Bail nodded thoughtfully, but his heart sped up.

 _Fulcrum_ was one of the code words for an interest in joining their nascent alliance to restore the Republic — what some were calling a Rebellion, though he hesitated to think of it that way. If Bail responded with another code word and they answered with a third, the real conversation could begin.

“Well, you’ve certainly done this proposal _justice_ in bringing it to me. Very well thought out and, I have to say, intriguing. Certainly mutually beneficial.” A fleet of Wild Space trading ships could be _very_ useful to them, indeed. They had military interest, maybe even too much military interest—the Mon Cals were ready for a full-on assault, in fact; he and Senator Mothma had been talking them down for months. But trade—now that was an avenue worth exploring.

Vanto nodded. “Thank you, Senator. We’re interested in slow, sustainable growth. An _alliance_ with Alderaan would fit very well with that goal. I think our interests are aligned.”

“I would agree,” Bail said.

The two of them exchanged a glance. Mitth’raw’nuruodo nodded at Vanto and turned to Bail.

“ _Anaungeo Sy Bisti?”_ he asked. A Wild Space trade language, excellent for preventing them from being overheard, especially if not even Threepio could translate. Bail wished he’d thought of it.

Bail shook his head. “Basic, Old High Alderaanian, Bothese, a little bit of Gungan—don’t ask about that last one, long story. But this room is secure. We can speak freely.”

“Excellent,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo approved. “Security is paramount.”

“So, it’s true?” Vanto asked, a little more eager. He leaned forward in his seat.

Bail nodded. “I represent a group of beings who are interested in restoring the Republic to its former glory. Rebuilding a galaxy of freedom and opportunity, not terror and oppression.”

Vanto grinned at Mitth’raw’nuruodo. “I bet _they_ have guns,” he said.

Mitth’raw’nuruodo smiled at Vanto—a small, private look, something that Bail expected was rare.

“We have military commitments,” Bail said. “Should they become necessary on a larger scale. Guerrilla tactics are what best serve us at present, and even those, I’m hoping, will be precision strikes. But there are a lot of competing interests, cells that aren’t in communication with us or any central leadership. Your fleet’s mobility would assist with that.”

“We can offer more than our fleet,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “Eli is a skilled slicer. Perhaps you have heard of the Empire’s data security issues on Trandosha and Bothawui?”

Bail stared. “That was _you_?” They had theorized the existence of an entire cell of slicers—the scale of the breach and its effects had been too great to be attributed to just one person. Or so he’d thought.

Vanto shrugged, looking away. “A hobby,” he said. “And Thrawn was a military commander among his people, the Chiss. He can offer advice on tactics and logistics.”

Bail felt as though the gods had reached down and placed a gift in front of him.

“There are other things we must discuss,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo— _Thrawn_ seemed much easier to pronounce, but Vanto clearly had permissions of address that Bail didn’t—warned. “Threats to this galaxy that come from outside the Empire.”

“And threats from within it that are much worse than you might have imagined,” Vanto said, placing a data card on the desk between them. “Threats that I—that _we_ —want your commitment on fighting before we put any resources at your disposal.”

“We can certainly come to an agreement,” Bail said, a little stunned. “I look forward to it.”

Mitth’raw’nuruodo nodded at him. “As do we. I believe I once met a friend of yours, Senator Organa. Many years ago, during the Clone Wars. Her name was Padme Amidala.”

The hand of the gods indeed. “A very great friend of mine, may the gods keep her memory.” Bail smiled, though Padme’s memory also caused him pain. “I’d like to hear that story. Gentlemen, I believe this partnership is fated. Shall we discuss the next steps?”

Mitth'raw'nuruodo placed his hand on Vanto's, fingers brushing the gold bracelet. Bail wanted to hear _that_ story as well.

“Indeed, Senator Organa,” Mitth'raw'nuruodo said. “Let us begin.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was written over 9 months in a shared Google Doc after anth took a tumblr meme I answered and turned it into the opening chapter. We planned it over chat and wrote it surreptitiously at our dayjobs. Those 9 months saw us travel (this was written in probably 4 or 5 different time zones and one of the sex scenes was written on my phone while I was in the middle seat on a plane), move (this fic was written in at least 2 different addresses for us both), write other projects, backtrack on this one (still salty about the time I had to delete FIFTEEN HUNDRED WORDS from this thing because it wasn't working), and realize that it was going to be a novella. All the while, we learned a lot from each other and leveled up our writing skills. Thank you to anthean for being an awesome, generous co-creator and fantastic editor! She kept me on track and kept the slow burn reasonably paced, despite my protests, and she's a hell of a writer. 
> 
> Thank you to all our lovely commenters who've been following along with our updates. We love what we ended up with, and have truly enjoyed sharing it with you. Come yell at us/prompt us on tumblr @coldhillside and @anthean sometime!
> 
> -13th
> 
>  
> 
> when I posted the first 1600 words of this on tumblr, lo these many moons ago, I tagged it with "coda: eli pines terribly for like 20000 words". I had no intention of continuing--after all, it would need thousands more words for me to do the idea justice, I was in the first few months of a new job and international move, and I've always been very insecure about my ability to write longfic. So when coldhillside demanded I continue it and I said, "Well, I'd be open to collaboration," I figured it wasn't gonna happen.
> 
> Little did I know.
> 
> Writing this fic (we call it 'hairbrush fic') has been one of the most joyous collaboration experiences of my life, hands down. Coldhillside has been supportive, creative, and patient (sorry again about how I declared it done and then immediately said no, we have to add 2000 words and a subplot), and was always there to remind me that people have emotions and stories are, mysteriously, actually better when you write about those emotions. Weird!
> 
> We have had so much fun taking you along for the ride with us. And keep an eye out: there may be more from the two of us in the future...
> 
> -anth


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